Why do you dance?
by PrimaScrittura
Summary: Before the fire, Odette had a goal. Before being the Maître Ballet in Paris, Louis Mérante had a life. They dreamed and then they met. The story before each became everything to the other.
1. The rose girl

**Chapter I**

 **The rose girl**

The long awaiting line of clients was diminishing and after the last one left with a huge bouquet of red asphodels, she managed to sneak behind the counter and continue her newspaper reading, the smell of roses never leaving her.

Going through the entertaintment column she remebered how people loved the smell of this particular flower, there was a time she did as well. But after working in the town´s flowershop since she was a little girl, no longer young enough to cause pity on those who she asked for food and shelter, now Odette could truly enjoy the smell only when she left the store, since outside was impossible for it to be stuck up her nostrils anymore. Hugo, her boss, insisted to believe every flower was special, trying to make her fall into his "flower religion"

-Every flower is unique, you know- he lectured, -As is every person. For you to work here, you must understand the art of identifying every customer with a flower. From the moment they come through that door, a specific flower is already waiting for them; all you have to do is find it…-

Odette would roll her eyes and ask:

-What if the customer wants a bunch of flowers?

-Vulgar of you to say bunch, no more… from now on, it is called a "bouquet", and it´s the same concept.

Pure nonsense, she thought, but to earn money she had to play his game. Luckily, Apolline was there.

Apolline was what one would call, a hopeless romantic, she would pretend every customer was in love with her, even if he was too young and when Odette was watering the flowers outside or cutting greenery to make "bouquetes" she often saw Madame Apolline writing letters from a distance, letters that after a week or so, she would send to herself and invite Odette to participate in the drama of "General LaFitte" who insisted he would take his own life if she didn´t reply to his marriage offer, or "Monsieur Lefevre" who said he would duel for her hand if necessary. At first, it was quite annoying, but Odette soon learned to appreciate the old hag.

She was the closest thing Odette had to a friend after her parents died in a fire, roaring flames consumed her house one night. Fortunately, people said, it had done nothing to scar her body, but Odette could still feel the sting of the warm hearth that went out of control and had taken everything she held dear; sometimes she compared that sting with the one she felt when touching a flower´s thorns.

-Pain will pass, little girl- Hugo said to cheer up her spirits

But they didn´t cheer and the pain stayed there, not crushing her anymore but forever present, like a dragon in slumber waiting to bathe her in hot flames at the slightest chance.

But… hunger and cold were different kinds of beasts, more like a pack of hunting wolves for they made Odette run and hide and yet, bloom from the sad bud that she was, or so Apolline liked to say.

Hence, Odette had to become a wolf herself.

A wolf with the smell of roses, Hugo often added when discussing her past with Madame Apolline whenever they thought Odette wasn´t listening. Truth be told "rosesmell", Odette´s nickname for the scent, WAS impregnated on her skin, on her hair and on her life now, probably from working all day long on a counter that had such flowers displayed all over it.

And yet Hugo, with his loony way of connecting flowers to every single individual that crossed his way, insisted the roses had picked her as their person.

-But not red roses, oh no – he corrected, shaking his long index finger in front on Odette´s nose, -yours is the blue rose. The rose for your eyes.

-You´ll see little one- Apolline would then say, patting her head as she gave her a pair of garden scissors, a bucket and leather gloves too big for her hands, -It is true, you don´t look red to me… One day, you´ll live in blue, you´ll hear in blue and you´ll love in blue.

"As long as my skin doesn´t turn blue…" she thought heading to the glassgardens, big crystal structures designed to maintain the heat within and prevent it from killing flowers during the long winters. Despite everything Hugo and Apolline said about blue roses and wolves in her temperament and her natural perfume, everytime Odette looked back on her life, there was only fire and bricks turned to charcoal, the smell of ashes suffocating her lungs and the moonlight to paint it all with its cold, lonely silver touch.

But one day, Apolline had brought newspaper to wrap some dead lillies that had gone bad a bit too soon and Odette saw on the entertainment column that a theatre troupe was coming to the little village, which wasn´t odd, being so close to Paris had the advantage of getting to see lots of the art perfomances that were on its way to the big city and yet this time, the troupe had as a special bonus, the participation of ballet dancers.

Odette felt the fire dragon in her move a little, pulling at her hearstrings… for her father had been a great ballet admirer, talking of its power to move people to tears and to shut someone´s mind using nothing but that touching gracefulness which made women look like flying swans and men like soaring eagles on a night sky.

But in the end, Odette gave in to the wolf that had allowed her to survive.

-Let´s go!- she had begged, Hugo and Apolline opposed at first… and yielded later when Odette threatened each one individually: Apolline, with writing to General LaFitte about her flirting with another suitor such as Monsieur Lefevre and Hugo, with telling Madame Apolline about how he compared her with an Egyptian cactus the moment she walked out the door after an argument.

And after that one night, nothing remained the same for Odette, she even came to like the crap of being a wolf with the smell of blue roses. For the ballet had soothed that fire scar from years ago and the firebreathing monster from her chilhood seemed to back away at the languid sound of ballet music, the dragon would lower its head to the flat silky shoes on wooden boards.

She could do it, she had to do it.

Maybe it was impossible for a wolf to tame a dragon, for a blue rose to defeat red fire. But Odette was a fighter, many said it, and she chose to believe it for if she didn´t, she´d end up believing the opposite.

Madame Apolline tought it romantic, Monsieur Hugo thought it idiotic, or at least he did until Odette promised him she would come back on winters to pay back what he spent, and of course, after Apolline swore she´d think about his proposal… the kind of which Odette wanted to know nothing about.

She enrolled on a medium level ballet academy, not a bad one to close every door she might knock on later, but a good one for the next target she already had in mind… The Paris Opera House.

After much preparation, that idle purple and orange afternoon was the last one on Odette´s life as a florist, at least until next winter.

Hugo bought her a new outfit and she liked how her small feet looked with her new shoes on.

She had grown a lot that year, her long legs looked pretty whenever she tried on the ballerina pointes and she had tied her dark and wavy chestnut hair in a neat ponytail that reached her waist; Odette caressed the cotton fabric of her skirt, Apolline had made it for her, a soft and practical sapphire creation that matched her eyes. Odette smelled it…

"Fantastic" she thought with annoyance "A day and a night in my possession and it already reeks of rosesmell"

Hugo´s parting gift had been more poetic, and also, most predictable.

A flower.

A blue rose resting encased in a red wooden box. –I dyed it myself – he said proudly, -using my special methods, it should last a month in that box.

Odette was surprised he didn´t give her an actual real wolf just to match the flower but she gave her thanks anyway, already used to his eccentric symbolisms and despite herself, she smiled sincerely to this man that had been almost like a grandfather to her.

-You can do it little one – he cherished her caressing her hair, as if she was still some 6 year old, -those wild pretty eyes of yours say they can take on the world. So go and do it.

Odette didn´t know if her eyes were pretty but she felt exultant that evening.

-Be always weary of men- Apolline´s last piece of advice, -you never know what they may ask, and you are as beautiful as a new made doll my child. As the maiden that came from a faraway star- she added to quote an old story she was fond of telling Odette long ago. But given Madame Apolline´s true expertise with men, she just smiled and nodded.

The next morning was all kisses and goodbyes, after Odette jumped on the back of a hay cart heading for the capital, a short 20 minute ride, she waved to Hugo and Apolline and as she looked at the bright sky, the white clouds seemed to smile and follow her.

Odette was no longer the rose girl, she even forgot about the wolf and the dragon, all the poems and all the warnings were gone for an instant.

She was only an amazed girl, drunk with life.

* * *

 **A/N Hello world! So, I´ve had this idea of a Merdette fic for a while now but I wanted to make it as romantic af haha, What do you guys think? Please, R &R!**

 **Oh, and since English is not my mother tongue, I would reeeeally appreciate if you guys corrected me in spelling and/or grammar mistakes to help me improve present you a far better work,**

 **Thanks a lot! ;)**


	2. A young dancer

**Chapter II**

 **A young dancer**

-Again from the top!

Louis fought the urge to roll his eyes and smiled diplomatically

-Boy, if what you ultimately want is in teaching and not dancing… well, you better be damn good on the last one or nobody will come to your classes – his teacher warned.

And he appreciated it.

He really did. After all, Monsieur Beaufort had been the only one who stood by him when he challenged his family to teach ballet instead of executing it to perfection, the way all his predecessors had done before him, the way his father and his father´s father had met and married the prima ballerinas at the time, for the sake of love or for the sake to give the world much more perfect ballet dancers, Louis could not tell.

At first, they solely refused; but after Louis said he would leave ballet altogether they agreed under one condition:

Before becoming a teacher, he´d have to proof he´d mastered ballet.

And he had no choice but to yield, Mérante was a tough last name to have and he meant to wield it to his advantage in the future.

-Adjust your arms! Perfect!

He had to, sometimes he thought he knew ballet positions better than speaking which made him wonder if he learned these before the other…

No time for that, now he had to dance, be perfect, be the best. Only like that he could touch his dream, live it.

If he managed to get the part for Romeo at the Opera House, he´d proof his parents what he was made of, if he could have a couple more years of successes just as good as the previous five… when Louis Mérante became the sensation as the new heir of a long dynasty of excellent ballet dancers.

It wasn´t long before he realized that wasn´t really what he wanted, sure it was intoxicating to be known as the best in his generation, but record breaking and metal awards were the only and true rewards for anyone on that path. The other trail held unknown and secret adventures no one in his family knew about, least of all his parents who as soon as they realized his private teacher was telling him of the prizes in such a noble career, fired him, no second thoughts. With the next teacher, Louis learned to be more cautious.

When he invited this new teacher, Monsieur Beaumont, to a luxurious dinner in a fancy restaurant as a thank you for supporting him, the man had laughed and told him:

-Sure I´d like to go, but I didn´t do it expecting anything you know. No good comes from demanding someone to act against his own nature. I can see, and I bet I´m not the only one, that you, my young pupil, hate to be flattered and having people all over you; it´s in you to be a partaker, not the main hero.

Mérante wasn´t sure if he should feel insulted or grateful at his comment, he assumed it was the first when Beaumont told him his previous teacher had probably seen it as well.

-It´s not like you´re not the protagonist of your own life. Hell, I´ve been there when you´re defending yourself and believe me you looked like an angry lion. But I meant… you´re a giver, rather than a taker.

And Louis knew he was right.

Both his parents were takers, and it destroyed their marriage even before he was born. They would also have destroyed him if he had let them.

But the so called lion had emerged and clouded his judgement. Ever since, his parents had acted as if he didn´t exist, only pretending to be a happy family during awards ceremonies and cocktail parties, forcing him to try and hide he wasn´t disgusted at how things had turned out.

They finished practicing for the day and before leaving, Beaumont looked at him. Louis was tall for his age and had the sharp handsome features of the Mérantes, high cheekbones and a fierce determined gaze, yet somehow Beaumont saw nothing of his father ruthlessness or his mother coldness, the young Mérante had warm eyes and a kind disposition his teacher hoped would stay there even if Louis would go and crash against the walls of the competitive and somewhat relentless ballet world.

Nodding affectionately, Beaumont left and Louis had nothing to keep him company but his thoughts.

He bathed, dressed, had a light lunch and headed for the Opera House. His juvenile figure darkened by the black hat and his walk, once light and elegantly carefree was now serious and resolute, like if no step was taken in vain. On the main street he had to wait for a hay cart to cross and a light smell of roses reached him. He had to hurry, the audition would start soon and it was always better to be the first, for it would turn you to a reference point in comparison to everybody else´s performance

Being Romeo in the play was only another step.

Louis entered the stage with decision written all over his face making many of his peers and veteran dancers far longer in the business, ask themselves why did they even bother competing against the ballet virtuoso. Mérante danced and the whole world held its breath, the role of Juliet had already been taken weeks ago by Joan D´Autrelle, the current prima ballerina; and yet nobody deemed inadequate a far younger Romeo for the experienced female dancer. If Mérante was the one to take it…well, that´s how it was.

After Louis performed, only 3 more dancers came to challenge him for the part, but the role was his and they all knew it. He came back home that afternoon with 3 tickets to the Opera for the premiere evening and a huge satisfied grin when he saw his parents' dislike, for they knew every step Louis took towards fame and immortality in ballet, was another stone in the catastrophe when he´d leave it all for teaching.

After the sun set behind the horizon, Mérante left the quiet comfort of his bed to climb through the windowsill and get to the roof, breathing the night air and looking at the silver moon.

The navy blue sky was clear, the starlight bathing the city, twinkling as if they were a thousand ballerinas wearing jewel crowns and waiting to dance on stage. Mérante thought it a miracle the prima ballerina at the time was much older than him; else his parents might arrange his marriage and tie him as they had tied themselves; he regretted the way he´d kicked on his relationship with them, for in spite of everything, he still loved them, but if there was no other way… well, then there wasn´t.

Paris was still experiencing huge changes, transforming itself from the dark medieval era to the light and romantic city it was today. And, from what he´d seen, it would compete as well to have one of the largest structures ever built, a huge steel tower which the newspaper said to be the new apple in the country´s eyes; not that Mérante cared that much for engineering but the size of its foundations was just massive, coupled together with how much technology and money were being invested showed how badly France wished the world to see her.

-Just like my family- he thought with a bitter smile, running fingers along his thick black hair and gazing at the sky once more.

-If I ever have a family of my own, I swear to break every single tradition and custom that has made us become the selfish brats we are today.

Sighing he climbed down to his room and dreamt of hectic cities, busy streets he crossed hurriedly as he laughed and ran from a policeman, distinguishing a lightly sweet smell of flowers he could not identify. He saw a black lion running in the wild, a wolf howling to the winter moon with its paws submerged in a sea of blue rose petals, the Opera House at the back.

He woke up panting, but managed to get back to sleep and the next day, after breaking his fast, he went to the Opera for rehearsal. Deep within his thoughts, never realized he was heading straight to someone´s back until he crashed against it.

-Ouch! - came out a male voice, sounding hurt and surprised.

The young dancer apologized and saw that the other boy was about his same age and height, bulky with curly auburn hair and bright green eyes.

"Irish" he thought with a smile, his previous teacher had been Irish as well.

-Careful there mate! You had me brekky spilled all over my coat!

Mérante had a bit difficulty figuring out his accent but after seeing his deeply appalled face and the old rag he called a coat, Louis realized the situation.

But he was late for the Opera already…

-I´m deeply sorry- he said sincerely, -I´ll tell you what, right now I´m in a hurry to get somewhere but if you wait for me right here, I´ll treat you on my way back… won´t be until noon though- he specified, rehearsals where long and required every bit of energy.

-Uhmm-

-My name is Mérante, Louis Mérante- he introduced himself extending a hand.

-Oh, bloody hell, mate- he said after much thinking and shook a dirty hand against Mérante´s black leather glove, -I´m Connor, and I just wanted to have breakfast, bloody difficult to find food that cheap these days you see, but how do I know you´ll come back?

Louis took a gold chain watch from his pocket, he might be taking a bit too much risk, but he always thought taking anything from the poor was the lowest point of anyone´s ethics. He offered Connor his watch.

-Would this be enough guarantee?

The big green eyes got even bigger, reflecting the morning light and almost seemed to clear the mist away from the Seine, which flowed freely and blue, underneath the bridge they were on.

-You sure mate? I could make a living from that

-I´m sure. See you later then- he waved and hurried to the Opera, he could always save and buy a new watch, Connor could live with a full stomach for another month, in the long run it didn´t matter that much.

The rehearsal was as demanding as he´d imagined, by the end Joan was the only one with energy left to cope with him and a noisy snort came from the musician's orchestra spot when Romeo made his final dance, a tiny green poison bottle at the center of the stage.

-You sure have the energy of a lion, boy- Madame Joan congratulated him after everyone had waved their goodbyes and a brunette violinist made a terrible attempt in talking to Monsieur Mérante, Louis bowed, genuinely surprised at the prima ballerina´s compliment.

-You too Madame D´Autrelle, couldn´t think of anyone more enthusiastic to dance with.

-All those turns… aren´t you a bit hazy?

-I confess I am Madame – he said honestly, -which is why I must hurry to a more private place.

-Of course – she agreed smiling, ever charming as she left.

Louis grabbed one of the wooden columns at the corner as he tried to steady himself.

-You trying to break a record? - said a familiar voice.

-Monsieur Beaumont- he realized who had made the noisy snort from before, -I´m trying to give my parents something so they stop pestering me in the future- he confessed in a rush metallic voice, Beaumont couldn´t make out if he was angry or jolly.

-The violin girl would surely like you pestering her- the teacher added jokingly.

-Whether it´s me or the money I´m making remains to be seen.

-It´s good you are that weary- he patted Mérante´s back as he helped him to get back to the dressing room.

-How come?

-Means you´re not stupid

As the young dancer dressed himself neatly, Beaumont invited him for lunch, Louis tried to excuse himself as he told him the incident with the Irish boy from the morning.

-Well, might as well go with you. It´s quite possible the guy has left with your watch in his rag of a coat…-he said between laughs, -for someone with a lion´s guts you sure are gullible.

-I´m not- said Louis putting on his gloves as they left the Opera House, -I gave it to him as an apology, it´s up to him which one he prefers.

-A watch or a single meal? - Beaumont said disbelievingly.

-A watch or a job that would feed him- Mérante retorted

-Did you tell him that?

-I will.

As they made their way to the bridge with the scorching summer sun above their heads, protecting their eyes from the stone street´s reflection, trying to see the auburn curly hair among a sea of velvet top-hats, silk and lace parasols and huge hats with dead animals and exotic feathers on them.

Louis sighed.

-He´s not here

-Thought you weren´t coming at all mate- said a young voice behind him, Mérante and Beaumont turned and saw the boy with the watch hanging around his thumb, a majestic smile on his face and his bulky appearance a bit overwhelming

-Thought you were gone

-C´mon- he said, -I wouldn´t be a very good police candidate if I did.

The three of them stayed in silence for a little bit, each surprised at the other.

-I´m really hungry you know- Connor said with a cheeky grin

-Of course- Beaumont regained his composture, -I´m Monsieur Beaumont, Mérante´s teacher and you are…- he said introducing himself.

-Connor O´Neal, pleased to meet you sir- he said shaking hands, making Beaumont realize he was no beggar or street-boy at all, he was only very dirty and possibly very poor.

-Let´s head for lunch then – said the teacher grabbing Louis by the arm, -I know an excellent little place by the river, just next to Notre Dame.

After ordering their meal, Connor told them he was the son of a policeman killed in duty, his mother had died when he was little and he was hoping to make a living by entering the police body next month; so at the moment Connor was only surviving long enough to get there.

On their part, Mérante said he was expecting to become a famous ballet teacher but first he had to excel at the dance to get rid of his family demands and Beaumont was helping him, Connor couldn´t quite get it.

-Why don´t you just leave?

-I can´t, I owe them a bit after all they´ve given me. Consider it as paying a debt.

-You sure are honorable Mérante- Connor was amused, -This morning you were ready to give me your watch…

-Yeah, let us hope this good sense gets you somewhere other than the streets for giving everything away- said Beaumont.

They all laughed and enjoyed their meal. By the end of it, Louis thought he had known Connor from years and he sincerely looked forward to the next time he´d see him.

-I´ll send you notes to let you know how I´m doing, won´t see you till I become a student in the police station.

They shook hands and parted ways not without Connor saying next time, he´d pay the meal.

-All right young man… we better start…

-I´m glad

-Excuse me?

-Glad at least I have a good acquaintance outside the ballet world that I´m sure will remain in sympathy with me after I´ve sent everything down the privy.

-Mérante, we´ve discussed this before – his teacher retorted sadly, -Those who truly are friends remain so no matter anything.

-I know, but I don´t know how many of those I have.

-At the moment, there´s two.

The young dancer raised an inquisitive eyebrow, his sharp good-looking features turned to a puzzled expression

-Connor and me- said Beaumont with a reassuring smile. Louis nodded and they both headed for the Mérante residence, there was still a lot of practice before tomorrow.

* * *

 **A/N**

 **Hello everyone! I´m worried about my Mérante analysis so I don´t know if he´s too much OoC, but pls hold on with me ;)**

 **As usual, I hope you can review and comment on what you guys think so I know if it´s a good idea to continue or just leave it to rest in my imagination haha XD;**

 **I´ll anwer to reviews by PM in a bit, as usual if you spot grammar and/or spelling mistakes, please let me know to correct it.**

 **Thanks a lot and have a great day!**


	3. A dancing wolfmaid

**Chapter III**

 **A dancing wolf maid**

The blue rose in the box had lost some petals since she arrived in Paris, almost two weeks ago. The first thing she did when jumping off the hay cart was looking where she would live. An inn was too expensive and renting wasn´t even on the table. Apolline had recommended her to look somewhere she could pay for her meals, her staying and so forth, yet Odette wasn´t too sure about how she´d manage to attend classes during the day and work for a living at the same time.

The only chance was to work at night or during weekends

Thinking like this, she looked for taverns where they´d be either set to hire underage girls for how much cheaper it was, or unscrupulous enough to have them as barmaids and waitresses to entertain the night while the customers´ purse grew thin. Odette was especially weary of this last type of job.

Finally, she came to this unusual tavern managed by a middle aged woman with her older brother, "Britain´s Bride" was the name of it, the first to the right on the Rue Royale and the seventh Odette visited looking for a job; the woman was named Orlena and her brother Philippe; much as the tavern, they were both British, and Odette couldn´t help but wonder if they had welcomed her when she said she´d clean the privy till its wood shone like the emperor´s or when she mentioned her status as a ballerina student.

That evening, Odette understood why. Orlena and Philippe hosted noisy night parties, where every customer was like family, they usually where either Irish or British with the occasional French popping by to see what was the cause of such merriment, for Orlena could dance to the tune of traditional folk fiddle, jabbing and stomping on top of chairs and tables, making Odette marvel at her freedom of performance and truly taste the sweet liqueur of improvised dancing that flourished from the heart.

She wrote so to Hugo and Apolline, who wrote back saying the proposal she refused to ask about before she left was on their impending marriage, which they planned to celebrate in winter so she could join them together with the rest of the villagers, along with the letter came a small papermade box.

"Forgot to put it in the box together with the rose little one. It´s meant to remind why you´re there, so you don´t get discouraged" – wrote Hugo "See you in winter"

The package contained a small howling wolf pendant that tinkled whenever she moved and earned a few intrigued looks from her bosses, who now called her the wolfmaid, playing with the "barmaid" word. Their teasing could have irritated Odette if she hadn´t been so absorbed by the academy.

Ballet was tough, it was an art, true. But there was technique and science to it; Odette obsessed with perfecting the right moves, the exact position even when Florance, her school tutor, asked her to ignore it altogether until she had found the grace to perform.

-Else you´ll look like you´re about to break; your toes must be iron hard but flexible as sallow branches.

-But if I don´t perfect it, I´ll never get to the Opera- whispered Odette under her breath.

-The Opera House accepts only the best; if there´s no beauty to your dance I seriously doubt you´ll ever get there

Yet the girl who somehow smelled of roses wasn´t even close. Florance suggested not to starch her tutu until her movement was more fluid, the rich mist-like fabric concealed how stiff Odette was.

-Careful though- warned Florance, -the material left starchless is highly flammable but as long as you keep your skirts out of the lamp´s gas reach, you should be fine.

Well, that wouldn´t be a problem, if Odette didn´t show progress on her somehow good technique but graceless movements, she would stay at the backstage forever.

Philippe advised her in his own way, of the little he knew of ballet but of the expert he was as a fiddler.

-Violin also is an art you know, and requires a lot of technique to be played amazingly; but in the end, art requires feelings and that´s what makes it memorable- he lectured her, -Many artists had probably been the best performers but what your audience takes to heart is what you said with your music or with your dance.

-Humans were made to feel my darling – added Orlena filling the jars on Odette´s tray with cold foaming Irish beer and strong amber whisky in small crystal shot glasses, -Anyone who believes otherwise is tragically mistaken.

-Hey girl!- demanded a customer.

-You´re being summoned wolfmaid- said Philippe with a smile as he took his violin out and made "Britain´s Bride" famous for yet another night of homeland´s fiddling.

Odette shrugged and for nights in a row, after she´d cleaned and everybody was gone, she would put her tutu on and danced through the tavern on her ballet pointes, her wolf necklace jingling in every turn and every twirl, the blue nightlight coming from the windows diminished the yellow light coming from the hearth and the wooden roof candlewheels, massive wine barrels were stacked up the back wall. For an instant, Odette thought she was on her own stage, one she had built herself with tired muscles, broken bones with tears and with blood, where the firebreath of her dragon couldn´t get her for she was faraway, in a place where only stars shone, wolves howled and ballerinas danced… it was all covered in blue velvet.

Odette opened her eyes, Orlena had a hand on her lips and tears running down her cheeks.

-I think you´ve found it girl- she said trying to get hold of herself, -That was truly beautiful…-she wiped her face using her apron, -You were dreaming of something.

Odette froze, she hadn´t really said anything about her past and frankly, doubted she ever would. But the tone in Orlena´s voice demanded for some kind of answer and from her point of view, Odette could say any stupid thing with just the right trembling volume in her voice and Orlena would fall for it.

-My dream was blue – there, it was stupid and it wasn´t really a lie… yet like many things, it wasn´t the whole truth… but it still had the amount of it Orlena needed and the one Odette was willing to give.

The tavern owner nodded knowingly and picked some trays up to take them upstairs.

-Mine are red, Philippe says it´s because I´m too passionate. What do you think?

-It´s because you are red-

Orlena seemed confused, but then smiled and turned around to leave.

After that night Florance noticed her dancing had improved exponentially, but nonetheless Odette refused to have her tutu starched

-It´s tradition. Now you´ll look sloppy- she argued.

-You think? - Odette retorted, -I think my skirts look like the snow dust a wolf leaves when they run.

Florance was about to say nothing could be farther from any normal person´s imagination but the girl interrupted her:

-I know I still have a lot to learn, and I still need to perfect many aspects of my dancing but I want you to consider issuing a recommendation letter for me, addressed to the Ballet Academy at the Opera House.

Florance´s frown made her brows look as one single line.

-Please- she asked joining hands in front of her, -I´ll work hard, if I´m accepted it´ll lift the level of the school plus you´d get to be among the best ballet tutors in the city.

Florance gazed at her pupil´s big almond shaped eyes, "the color of midnight sky" she thought once, sparkling with that inner wild strength she had about her… and she believed in her, may God had mercy on her, she believed in her.

-Alright, but no guarantees Odette. I´m not really that big within the Opera House or in high ballet circles- she pointed out, wanting the flowery smelly girl´s full attention, -And even if you do get there, it´ll only be harder.

-I know, and I also wanted to ask you for something else…

Florance crossed her arms in front of her chest

-I´d like…- she started, barely a whisper.

-¿Huh? Louder girl-

-I´d really appreciate…if…- Florance could hardly hear her, Odette´s toes traced small circles on the floor

-Gracious God, is that pendant just for show? Howl girl!- the tutor shouted.

-I´d like to have the old blue jars that are in the storage! – Odette shouted back, Florance was pleased

-What for?

-My employer said every good barmaid gets to add a bit of decoration to the tavern; makes the place look quainter. And I want to put those jars in.

Florance thought it weird, but said nothing as she gave her permission not before asking the address of her working place, promising to go whenever she had the time.

Odette brought five jars back and before Orlena could say anything about her strange decoration idea, the girl knotted some old ropes she found next to a dock by the river, making five sort of nests for each jar and tied them up to the roof, the jars dangled along the joists and candlewheels.

-They look like huge blue honeycombs- said Orlena

-Well, Odette- pointed her brother, -you sure added the weirdest deco…up until now the Fleurdelisé flag over there had been the strangest thing in here, someone even painted up some of the chairs and tables in sky blue and put an anchor in that corner…

-Anything from the wolfmaid- retorted Orlena teasingly, Odette rolled her eyes.

For the next few weeks her ballet became increasingly appealing and her technique perfected, Florance said her recommendation wasn´t that far ahead.

-Hey Odette- said Orlena one evening, her devilry low tone making Odette rather uncomfortable, -Have you ever been actually in the Opera House?

-No- she said, not knowing what to expect.

-Well, I happen to have tickets to see their next play "Romeo and Juliet", they say the next ballet prince will perform as the protagonist.

-I don´t care about princes- she said honestly, -If I happen to go, my eyes will be on Joan D´Autrelle the whole time.

-You´re not funny girl, I think is that skinny form of yours, if you had a bit more curves…-

-Lena, that´s an invitation to the Opera, right? - Odette interrupted genuinely amused, her blue eyes blazed in diversion.

-Well- Orlena decided to pull her strings a bit more –Let´s make a bet: if you win, I´ll take you to the Opera with the tickets, if I win… I will starch your white tutu!

Odette opened her mouth to protest but thought better

-You know how much I love my white tutu…

-Of course! That´s what makes it fun silly– voiced Philippe.

-Alright, we´ll compete over what? - asked the girl, knowing she had no way out.

-Over the number of customers who ask for either the bartender or the wolfmaid!- suggested Philippe as he finished polishing his violin.

-No way- said Orlena, -Everybody loves to be served by the girl that reeks of roses.

-I don´t reek!

-But you do smell of roses! – Orlena retorted, more than once she had tried to find the good quality perfume in Odette´s room that lasted all day long. But it was useless, she had come to accept the blatant truth of the girl´s scent.

-Fine, fine… how about the amount of tips? Cash only

That was interesting, Orlena would tend the customers that looked wealthier but Odette´s slender frame would look after more tables.

-Works for me.

-Right

Said both at the same time.

When "Britain´s Bride" opened, both would look at their tables with hungry eyes, so much so that Philippe thought they´d scare customers away or at least someone would try to cross and overstep the boundaries with Odette, and since Orlena could take care of herself, both siblings had often had to punch some faces without the girl noticing; even so, Odette was no simple-minded little dancer. She had mastered the use of her heavy serving tray as a flying weapon on her own, and her flowy sapphire skirt would fly away of the trespasser´s table.

The competition was just for fun, Philippe realized, there was no way his sister wouldn´t take Odette to the function.

Odette threw some coins to her cash stack as well as a couple of tickets to the theatre a guy gave her intending to take her out, but she just grabbed them both and thanked him as she walked away.

She hurried to tend another, very crowded table of about eight people, almost getting on each other´s laps as they tried to fit in the little corner on the platform top at the back of the bar. She approached without going up the couple steps that separated her from them.

-Hey yoh!

-It´s the wolfmaid!

-What can I do for you? - she asked politely, trying her nickname didn´t get her nerves.

-Eight beer pints, the best you have! We´re celebrating!

-Of course- she said, turning to leave and avoid the irritating green look in one of them, not much older than herself, with curly auburn hair.

-Get ahold of yourself man! – laughed one of them.

-Connor is all drooling over the little woman!

-I´m not!- he said in a sorry attempt of defense, -Why do you call her wolfmaid?

-No idea

-She´s wild!

-I heard she ate someone´s hand off after he tried to… you know what.

-That must be it!

More laughs

Odette steadied herself next to the big beer barrel as she filled the pints, trying to think of nothing but the "Romeo and Juliet" ballet play.

* * *

 **A/N Hey guys! Is this worth it?**

 **Did you like it?**

 **Please let me know!**

 **Anyway, I´m updating two chapters because my town´s having a bit of wifi difficulties**


	4. Last Dance

**Chapter IV**

 **Last dance**

 _"_ _Hey there mate!_

 _Can´t believe you´re the one from every brochure stuck on the streets lampposts, dressed in those damn tight things… man, must say you don´t look too good and I find quite irritating how the ladies think exactly the opposite._

 _Anyway, I´m already enrolled in the academy. It´s a couple of years and then I´ll be out in dark alleys fighting for justice´s sake. Next week my peers and I will go to a very popular bar around here; it´s on Rue Royale I think and it´s called Britain´s Bride, they say proper music is played there and the bartender dances to it. Should you decide to join me, please let me know, I think you´ll be very busy though, it´s the previous night to your premiere._

 _Nonetheless, please tell me everything about how you´re doing._

 _Cheers!_

 _Connor"_

Mérante folded the paper, he was willing to reply later and Connor would understand his delay. Usually he would answer the note straightaway after receiving it but not today; what occupied most of his thoughts was how Romeo and Juliet could be his last performance… if he managed to break the fouetté record, he could throw the damn award to his parents and be done with the whole thing.

He needn´t more fame, Europe knew him and honestly, his mind was set on being a teacher far longer than a dancer; so he dismissed the mailman and headed for his private practice room, Beaumont was there and Mérante was relieved he shared his view on the performance, if Louis turned it into something as big as when France announced the Eiffel´s construction, then it was more than likely his parents would leave him be.

That was basically the reason why he practiced to exhaustion, he knew the value of hard work and the fact that it didn´t really mattered where one came from in terms of talent, either you had it or you didn´t and the rest came from no small degree of willpower and guts; like a train going full speed to which one tried desperately to board, knowing it wouldn´t stop to wait.

The love he held for ballet was special, he´d given it his childhood, soon he would´ve given it all his teenage years and he planned on devoting his adulthood as well; Beaumont jokingly said ballet would be his bride and his shroud… Louis wasn´t sure if it was a jest or his fate was woven into it the way his mother used to wove flowers in her hair when he was a little boy, there even was a song for her somewhere within the depths of the library.

Days where hectic and full of dancing, girls from the Opera trying to ask him out and the world spinning before his dark hazel eyes as he performed the fouettés. The nights as well,

full of that winter howling wolf dreams with blue roses on the snow, running lions and laughs of the policeman who chased after him.

And after three days…

-120…

-Mérante, that´s good enough.

-125…

-Mérante, I said stop.

-132…

-LOUIS MÉRANTE!- shouted Beaumont and he stopped turning, grabbing his head in an effort to keep it on top of his neck and not flying across the country.

-You´re not good at all if on that day you´re too nauseous to perform- his tutor scolded.

-I´ve got to do this.

-You already broke the record.

-If I don´t get over the last one by a fair amount of fouettés they won´t be satisfied and you know that.

Beaumont sat beside him on the wooden floor and put his elbows on his knees

-I know that.

They stayed in silence for a while, Louis had to keep practicing but for now he just tried to keep his eyes from turning.

-Connor´s been writing, hasn´t he?

-Yeah.

-How´s he?

-He´s entered the police forces, next week he´ll be celebrating with his new friends while I stand in front of a hundred lights and spin around till I vomit.

-Don´t sound so bitter.

-I´m not, I just can´t wait.

Beaumont patted his head, as if he was a little boy and convinced him to give a couple more rounds before dinner. After an estranged meal animated only by the coming and going of servants with food platters, his tutor waved goodbye and Louis headed for his rooms leaving his parents to discuss the newspaper and whatever gossip his mother had picked in the city´s tea square.

He laid down on his bed, still fully dressed and looked over Connor´s note again.

Mérante couldn´t make it to the bar, that much was clear and his friend knew it, which was probably why he was extending a further invitation. With no small amount of laziness, Louis sat up and went to his desk trying to think on a decent reply; he wrote him he was still practicing for the play in which he´d hope to break a world record and finally be free, also saying he´d love to go to the tavern with him but it´d have to wait till after the season premiere and a week extra with little presentations now and then.

Louis knew how little things would change if he couldn´t make a significant amount of fouettés in his performance, he´d have to wait for another perfect chance to do something incredibly stupid in miraculous circumstances and seize the opportunity to emancipate. But if he did break the chains, he´d have to design a plan to adjust his way of living to probably a far thriftier one; Beaumont said he could go and live with him and that he already had recommendations and other formalities for him to start teaching right away at the Opera House but Mérante wanted, through his own hard work, earn his own place with his own money. Not that he didn´t make enough; but living with his parents implied having the Opera giving them all his wages and payments, much of which were gone in mother´s lavish expenses and father´s travels.

He finished the note back for Connor and rang the bell to send it first thing in the morning for the servants… it would be interesting when servants where gone and he´d have to go to the post office and send the letters himself, he was actually looking forward to it.

Mérante removed his clothes, leaving only the undergarments, too tired to put on his night clothing, he laid there again and fell in a dreamless sleep.

At the rehearsal next day, Beaumont told him he would be talking to the director about his farewell as a dancer only if he did make all the fouettés he was planning.

-What is your top number?

-150

-That´s quite ambitious Mérante, yesterday you were having difficulties just reaching 135

-I will reach them.

-Alright – he said, trusting the boy´s guts and gumption.

By the afternoon, Louis could barely look at something without thinking it was moving on its own "Or am I the one that´s moving?"

The prima ballerina surprised him the following morning by saying confidentially she would be retiring soon.

-You really sure Madame D´Autrelle?

-Oh yes my boy, there´s a moment when you realize you should leave the stage before you break your hips and leave it to the next generation – she winked at him, -and, since the European audience already loves and knows you, I have no regrets, you´re already a familiar face Mérante; and I´ve seen you dancing since your big debut some years ago. Some call you the Ballet Prince -she whispered looking at the young man´s handsome features, -though sometimes I think you´re nothing but a grumpy lion.

Mérante nodded, slightly amused by the comparison and limited to watch as she walked away, her long blond hair falling into a cascade as she released it from the hairnet. Despite the age difference Madame D´Autrelle was a good dancer, one from which Mérante was sincerely sorry to be parting ways from.

-By the way Mérante, -she said from the stage back entrance, -my family and I were thinking of taking a long holiday but the train tickets are the same day as a theatre function I was planning to go with them… Would you like to have them?

Louis who had an arm raised in second position, lowered it to look at Joan incredulously

-I´m not into theatre Madame.

-Oh please boy, -she said waving a hand- I´ll go get them from my dressing room, at least they´ll be a distraction from work for you and a respite for your parents. I hear they´ve been really distressed lately.

Mérante couldn´t ask how she knew that since she left the stage to look for the theatre tickets. If he was to go to the function he´ll probably never ask them to accompany him.

Madame D´Autrelle came back with a small yellow envelope she gave him with one of her enchanting smiles.

-There´s three of them.

-You´re too kind

-Nonsense, consider it a parting gift- she said while leaving the wooden boards and moving towards the exit hallway.

Mérante discussed with Beaumont over dinner what it meant for Parisian ballet the fact that one and potentially two of its most prominent figures would leave the stage. The Seine waters ran in front of the restaurant they were in while the waiter, dressed in a good tailored frac, brought their food; a light fresh salad with raspberries for Mérante and herb-crusted lamb chops and creamy pommé dauphine for his tutor.

-They´ll manage. New blood is always needed.

Louis didn´t reply immediately.

-D´Autrelle gave me tickets for a theatre function, said it was a parting gift.

-Really? What is it called?

-Don´t know, don´t even know if I want to go.

-Mérante you need to stop this attitude- retorted Beaumont in a low voice.

-Excuse me?

-This sensation of dread you have about you. Like if the apocalypse was approaching. You´re only going to change jobs, for heaven´s sake boy!

-I´m sorry, it´s just… well, I don´t know what to expect

-What do you mean? You´ve known tutors all your life! Sure you can imitate one.

-Yes, but…

-But?

-What if I´m not good enough?

-…Huh?

-What if I got it all wrong and that is not what I´m supposed to be? What if it´s all an illusion woken by nice words someone told me once?

-Did you knock your head somewhere? Of course it´s an illusion!

Mérante raised both eyebrows and his skin became so white the candlelight made him look like a ghost

-Every dream is an illusion until you work in bringing it to reality. Yes, they´re nice words as you said, but they must be strong enough you would live and bleed and die for them. Don´t think I don´t know you´re taking a high plunge here Mérante… but the important thing is your willingness in jumping, if it was totally delusional I´d talk you out of it and you know I would.

But I think it reasonable because being a tutor is who you truly are, who you are meant to be… but of course that doesn´t imply your path would be free of thorns and obstacles.

His pupil looked at him intently, drinking his words in.

-There are times Mérante… when you just have to bet, rationally, but to bet anyway and hope for the best. If it doesn´t work entirely the way you expected, and believe me it would happen more often than not, then you work on some adjustments to make it look as you saw it in your mind…it´s just called life my boy.

Mérante remained quiet the rest of the evening and Monseiur Beaumont left him be, while they both shook hands and headed for their respective homes, Louis whispered:

-I´m sorry I´ve been so sullen these days- he apologized, his sharp dark hazel look drilling into Beaumont –I won´t be anymore, your words… your words were like a slap in the face to be honest, but they worked. I hope you can join me to the theater in a couple of weeks.

-Of course- his tutor smiled back as they parted.

The days passed quickly, but Mérante lived them intensely. Like if the fact of not dancing in public after "Romeo and Juliet" pushed him to a deeper level of connection with the movements, with the music, with everything he had mastered until that moment and he spun and turned and made all the fouettés he wanted…until he reached 150 the day before the premiere.

He slept in the Opera that night as was his custom every time a premiere was launched, Beaumont brought tea with golden bread that cracked deliciously when pressed between his fingers and creamy light cheese to get him by the day, everything pointing towards the night.

Mérante looked at Paris from the Opera´s roof, he was fully dressed and the rich black velvet of his custom was crossed with freshwater pearls on the sleeves, black leather belt and a rose knitted in fine black silk shreds on his back. The City of Light displayed its exuberance even from the heights, Louis thought about how old the city was and how many things had the river, the grass and the stones seen, his previous worries gone with the night wind and the silver moonlight touching his world in that decisive event. Below him, people were filling the audience seats attracted by the promise of the prima ballerina´s last dances and, even if they didn´t know it, his own.

He went down hearing rushed voices and the rustle of last minute preparations on stage, the red fabric protecting them all from the spectators. Next time he was in this situation, he´d be nervous for the presentation of his own students, as for right now… the nerves were crushed beneath his willpower and his whole being was consumed by sheer concentration on dancing his best. Not caring if he moved everybody to tears or to laugh, to cheer or to dread; that was his last dance, a moment reserved between the ballet and himself.

Beaumont wished him luck, he just nodded and absentmindedly passed in front of his own parents, although it didn´t matter that much anymore, sometimes he though Ballet itself had brought him into the world.

The play developed smoothly, in between his executions on stage people told him he was making history, that it was the best representation of romantic ballet they´ve ever seen and the director smiled sadly, because of Beaumont he knew it was his last public appearance as a dancer but nevertheless, he pressed his hand against Mérante´s shoulder and murmured barely over a whisper

-This is beautiful Mérante… please, rest assured that you have a position amongst the tutors here, if we´re lucky I can promise you the post of Maître Ballet in the Opera House for the future.

This put him on edge, the greatest position of ballet tutoring in France… if he could get there, then the rest would slowly fall into place.

And then came his last performance for the night, Romeo´s death and Mérante´s immortality with his fouettés.

He started and never stopped till finishing, for that was who he was. And as he turned, he realized that was his purpose for dancing, and therefore it didn´t matter if he performed for an audience or for himself, if he had a small child in front of him full of dancing dreams and butterfly hopes that could fly in the sunlight. The purpose was there, dancing or tutoring.

He loved ballet and would see it develop from beginning to end, like he was and infant and the dance itself was his tutor. That was it, he needed no more and he was content.

The music ceased and so did he. The spectators were silent… but he was about to lose it. Then, everything happened too fast for any clear recollections, something red appeared before his eyes and the audience on the other side cheered and clapped, like a roar, like a beast threatening to bring the whole stage down.

Beaumont came to his side first.

-Mérante- he seemed out of breath, -187… you did…

-A bucket- he interrupted his tutor as he tried to reach the dressing room, -I need a bucket.

But he couldn´t leave the stage before emptying his stomach right on the spot.

* * *

 **A/N Tadah!**

 **Spoiler promise: Next chapter they´ll meet ;)**

 **I hope to be posting it tomorrow, but expect it throughout the weekend XD**


	5. The lion and the wolf

**Chapter V**

 **The lion and the wolf**

-Hmmm, hum…-

Odette hummed the play´s music as she made her way towards her academy. Weeks had passed since "Romeo and Juliet" premiere, but the power of the ballet danced there had been enough to move her very core… she wondered if the wolf in her cried then. After all Louis Mérante, the Ballet Prince, had broken a world record before her very eyes, nearly all she heard about at school ever since was about how Mérante had carved his name in ballet´s history with 187 fouettés in a single solo, he vomited later of course, but no one seemed to care and Odette could only remember as she rocked dreamily from one side to the other, of his elegant silhouette turning and spinning without stopping.

Her admiration for the dancer fueled when she heard he´d become a tutor at the Opera House, the youngest ever. Now, that was a great way to leave the stage… breaking a record with both the audience and the ballet teacher´s world. Even Florance admitted how difficult it had been for her to acquire the tutor´s license, and she had been 10 years older than Mérante at the time.

But after Odette debuted at a small recital, the feeling of being able to touch the stars as she danced came stronger than ever, a whole sparkling world shining inside her… she decided that´s what she would try to share with her spectators, as Philippe had said once: the technique is important to your art, but the feelings make it unique.

Her flowy starchless tutu was already famous by the locals and her peers, some older and some younger, admired all the different tricks Odette would find for training, for she could discover ways of perfecting her grace everywhere she put her gaze on, like if she was born for it. Whether it was at the academy or on the street on her way back to Britain´s Bride, Odette could dance taking as partners the snow and the rain, the ray lights from either romantic twilights or thunderstorms.

She wrote to Hugo and Madame Apolline on Fridays and received their reply on Sundays and after her debut on the small stage, Monsieur Hugo would send a bouquet of blue roses after every single time she presented, honoring her performance and Odette would sigh and weep for she knew the trip was perhaps too much to ask for her friends´ bones, but it didn´t imply she didn´t miss them.

On those nights she would dream she was already dancing at the Opera House, the dressing rooms filled with blue roses, woven on the canopies, the windowsills and around the mirrors, her fierce dragon sleeping at the back of her mind and the audience cheering her dance as the light rosesmell perfumed the air. She dreamt of a policeman drinking spiced wine from a golden goblet as he chased a black lion on the streets, heading for the Opera, but when it put its front paw on the white marble entrance floor, the dragon woke.

Odette would cry, the dragon snaked its red tongue along sharp white teeth and breathed smoke as it engulfed her in bright yellow flames, the stage turned to ash and there was screaming as the lion roared to the winter night.

-ODETTE!

She woke up, her cheeks flushed and damped in tears, her chestnut hair splayed and tangled all over the pillows.

-What is it? - Orlena´s face had worry all over it.

-There… there was a fire… and it destroyed everything.

Orlena put her strong arms around Odette to cradle her.

-Hush, there´s no fire.

"Damn it, girl… when did we start caring so much about you?" She asked herself as her gaze studied Odette´s nightstand; a withered bunch of blue roses landed its gray petals on the wood next to the old candlestick and the young ballerina´s wolf pendant rested between pieces of old hardened wax. Orlena smiled and grabbed it.

-You said this necklace gave you a purpose, right? So never stop wearing it and maybe the nightmares will go –She recommended while securing the thin silver chain around the girl´s neck, -tomorrow´s night we´ll go to the theatre function using the tickets that stupid customer gave you and I´ll tell you what… Let´s go shopping during the day. We´ll leave Philippe taking care of stuff here.

Odette smiled, really smiled and Orlena knew she couldn´t help but caring about her sweet wolfmaid. Always trying to be tough and take on the challenges and never asking for help… Odette was covered in iron to be sure, but beneath all that wild beauty and cold demeanor was a tender heart longing for something Orlena could not yet see.

-Go to sleep, little girl, go to sleep- she said as she sang one of the many Irish folksongs she was fond of dancing.

The next day was full of excitement; Odette had never gone shopping before and the packets wrapped in colorful silkpaper and hard decorated boxes were a whole new spectacle for her.

-So…- whispered Orlena when they came back home, - do you like him?

-Who? –said Odette without really listening, sorting their shopping

-The cute police boy

-Which police boy?

-Green eyes, curly hair? The one that hasn´t stopped coming every now and then since the other night-

-Oh- replied Odette giving little thought about it, -not really, I mean he´s a nice fellow- she admitted while piling up her bags and boxes, -but I´m not really into that sort of thing right now.

-You´re not funny girl, that´s strike two.

-Huh?

-Whatever- Orlena gave up throwing her arms up in the air. –Go and dress yourself, I´m determined to steal some glances out of rich men tonight and it won´t happen if I´m accompanied by someone who looks so ordinary- she said to sting at Odette´s pride.

As usual, she didn´t, the girl shrugged and taking her recently acquired belongings, headed for her room.

Once in there, Odette proceeded to undress herself and looked at her reflection in the mirror… she might have been a bit curvier around her hips and the silhouette of her breasts wasn´t as big as the newspaper models, but there was something delicate about her movements and she liked to think it made up for her slender forms and truth be told, it wasn´t as bad as Orlena made her believe… she wasn´t flat as a board and there were still some years of woman´s growth ahead of her.

The fair skin had a uniform coloring, getting rosy on her cheeks and creamy white on her throat and arms. Her long face gave her a touch of elegance and it was cradled amongst the wavy chestnut locks of her hair.

The bright blue eyes had a dark undertone Odette found secretly mysterious, for they appeared almost black when she got angry and so blue when she was happy they looked almost violet. In the end Odette sighed and shrugged once more, there were things about herself she liked and others she didn´t as any other person; but she trusted Orlena´s shopping for her did a bit more than accentuate her thin waistline or the pallor in her complexion, so fashionable at the time.

She started ripping the packages and opening the boxes to get ready; in 45 minutes she was done. Looking at her reflection once again, she decided to leave her long hair loose and wear no jewelry except the small pearl earrings Orlena had got for her and the silver wolf pendant dangling freely just beneath the white lace surrounding her neckline. The long sleeves made unnecessary the use of any bracelets.

-You´ll leave your hair like that? - asked Orlena when she saw her.

-Yes – she said, not so sure now that she saw the high bun the bartender had made above her head.

-Leave her Lena- intervened Phillippe, -I think it suits her- he added sincerely looking at the girl, the long sapphire blue velvet dress had a square neck cut with white lace on its borders, her eyes were impossibly blue and her hair… Odette looked like a wild ice maiden.

-You look beautiful too- she said shyly looking at Orlena, the woman had bought a night fantasy dress with red silk skirts and black see-through fabric for her arms, she wore big amber stones for her neck and ears and a shiny Spanish shawl above her arms.

-Alright, tonight we´ll not worry about anything, understood? - said Orlena with fierce determination, -For I reckon tomorrow we´ll realize our savings have gone down the privy…- she added on a lower tone.

-The carriage is here milady- announced Philippe in an amused voice, as he took the money out to pay for the rented carriage and gave it to his sister, -Don´t drink too much, alright?

-Yes, I promise – replied Orlenna as she climbed to the vehicle followed by Odette.

Philippe waved at them till the horses turned around the corner, he lighted the torch outside the back entrance of the tavern and opened its front gate, he hoped not many customers would pop by tonight.

The theater was built not too far away from Notre Dame and it had the typical gothic look of most Parisian buildings… tall and gloomy at the top, warm and modern on the inside. Orlena instructed the driver to come back after the play and they both walked in; the bar tender waved at some friends and dragged Odette along with her, the woman chatted the minutes away as the girl contented herself with looking at the polished stairs, beautiful crystalware filled with cold white wine on some of the waiter´s trays as others had dark glass cups with another type of alcohol in them.

Not knowing very well why, she grabbed one. The young waiter, too distracted looking at her hair and her dress, didn´t even ask her if she was old enough to drink. Odette sensed the cup was warm and smelled the red liquid.

-It´s spiced wine- said Orlena, - you can try just a little if you like, I´m not your mother but can´t have drunk, you know.

She nodded and tried it; it was nice, had a faint taste of cinnamon and apple, of vanilla and the sweet smell of Arabic frangipane. The wine made her a bit hazy and warm, her scent of roses all over the dress, Orlena dragged her again towards their seats in the theater and Odette felt embraced by the ambient; like if anything could happen as she steadied herself to watch the play.

She forgot once more about the beasts living inside her as her artistic soul prepared to live the play, enthusiastically she fought and felt with the actors on stage.

The function was about a married couple: she was a famous writer, but she pretended to be a male of course, and he besides being her husband was also her editor; Orlena looked at Odette as if thinking the play might be too much for her young mind, but the wolfmaid didn´t seem scared… if anything she looked excited, with her eyes turning purple making her companion wonder if maybe she had too much of the red spiced wine.

The girl got involved on the conflict in such a way that probably she would´ve jumped on stage to participate, for Odette prided herself of seeing beneath the surface of the play´s argument and by the end of the first act, she had already taken part in one of the fighting sides. The famous writer was as reasonable and holy as any saint even though the play´s author, a man in the end, tried deceiving the public. Odette wouldn´t be cheated on this, nor Madame Apolline if she´d been there, the old lady had taught her a woman could perfectly get by in life under the same or worse conditions than a man. Hell, Odette was a living proof herself… why not?

By the end of the second act and realizing things were starting to take a turn she deeply disliked, Odette was about to raise red banners and invite all women in the place to protest, stopped only by the thought that she hadn´t really payed for her seat… and therefore had no right to set up a scandal, she missed however, the cane of Monsieur Hugo who used it to knock the floor every time a line was not of his liking, laughing uncontrollably if it was otherwise and making difficult to understand the play for all those around him.

When the theater curtain fell to indicate the _intermezzo_ , a man dressed in tuxedo came to stand in front of everyone saying he´d be honored if, to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the function´s inspiration, some members of the audience would be willing to present, in their own words, what they thought about the play.

He regretted the author´s absence and indicated some cast members would be present during the little event to represent the play´s point of view while four spectators, chosen randomly, came to stand before the rest of the audience. The man then took a piece of paper out of his pocket and started to announce the seats, three people climbed up the stage and when the last one was called out, Odette´s knees started to tremble. Orlena turned to look at her.

-Well, aren´t you lucky? C´mon! – she encouraged helping her to gather her skirts in a fist.

Odette went up the stage using the small steps and let her blue dress waved around her as she looked at the audience, a mass now of colorful suits and dresses, she stared at the lamps trying to remember how to breathe. Orlena saw her from the distance… well, she was all flushed cheeks and white skin now, the wine she drank had given a light red kiss on the inner part of her lips. Philippe said something about her appearance when leaving… "what was it?"

The first presenter was a lady, her one attribute was a bright shiny bag which one could say was filled with so much stuff it looked like it was about to explode, she said something about women being too tender to openly confront a man the way the protagonist from the play had done with her husband; the second was an erudite, talking like a parrot about Shakespeare, Grimm Brothers and Spanish Golden poem Era; the third one was all fun and giggles, he made poor taste jokes and unfortunate comments on the play´s custom design, the man in the tuxedo shut him up almost straight away.

-Please Madame, if you could come to the front- he invited Odette.

Her blue velvet dress richly reflected the light accentuating her eyes, so full of life they shone purple, her chocolate brown locks adorning her almost virginal features; Orlena could see she grabbed her wolf necklace to gather courage and as she let it go, Lena remembered.

A wild ice maiden.

The bartender looked up in hope of calming her nerves, and through the golden theater boxes she distinguished an elegant figure, not easily forgotten now as he had broken a ballet record not too long ago, Orlena wasn´t that immersed in ballet but she had seen his performance when they´ve taken Odette to the Opera House, and the attractive face of the young man had been all over the newspapers for weeks. Louis Mérante was looking at the stage as the rest of the audience, waiting for the outcome of such a strange and dangerous dynamic sort of game.

Odette trembled a bit to herself and looked bright blue to others as she stared at the man, waiting for his question.

-Which is, in women´s eyes, Pierre´s best attribute?

Odette thought there could not be a more stupid question, men couldn´t understand how there were as many different types of women as stars in the sky: Tender Women, Women with Sex Appeal, Unattractive Women, Kissed Women and so forth; and men, who knew little to nothing about these labels, tried to figure women out from their own little one-sided dimension, the reason for their ignorance was that Unkissed Men were quite seldom anywhere.

This was proven when the man asked the woman with the exploding bag about Marie's mistake in confronting Pierre, and she replied that if she had been in Marie´s place she´d never have fought with Pierre. "Rubbish" thought Odette, there was no planet in which that woman could take Marie´s position and the fact of even suggesting was beyond ridiculous; Madame Apolline had taught her about the best arguments on the eternal men and women fighting over who was better, and she decided to take all of those out and teach that little tuxedo man how small his world was.

So Odette felt her heart beating at full speed, sending blood all over her, she told herself she´d better get used to be gazed at by so many faces and cleared her throat before replying with crystal clear voice:

-I´m deeply sorry to differ from other´s opinion; but for me, Pierre lacks any sort of attribute… I consider him a male stupidity compendium- she could hear now the unison sound of the audience holding its breath, and couldn´t see Orlena smirking- this play should have been called _A terrible husband_

The happy expression of the man in the tuxedo changed for one of horror, as he´d been thinking he was treating with a beautiful airheaded butterfly and found a hysterical angry harpy.

-You´re saying that…

-You asked me, as a woman- Odette tried to lower her voice to appear older than she really was, -what I thought of Pierre at the play. I think Marie is a complete woman: beautiful and successful, but for her the most important thing is Pierre´s love; which is different for him since he prefers her books and money. Using her career as an excuse, all he says is she´s a genius and she´s great, I wouldn´t object against it if once in a while he said she looks good with the dress she´s wearing- the public laughed, the atmosphere felt hot, she absentmindedly ran her hand to her hair in an effort to put it back.

-I don´t think you´re paying enough attention to the fact he venerates her work and…

-Yes, but he never compliments her as a woman, which never implies she´s not beautiful or that other men notice it; nothing compares to the fact one´s husband appreciates his wife´s beauty.

The man studied her face, stopping on her lips and replied

-You think flatter is better than sacrifice?

"Oh" she laughed internally, it was likely her dragon would laugh as well "You´re not going that way"

-Why do you call it sacrifice? Pierre lives thanks to her success as well. He´s one of those men that live for working and expects his wife to be the same; he forgets Marie is a woman that also needs the sentimental part, not to be taken lightly for it must be lived intensely. But with him "marriage" goes with "work", when it should go with "happiness" and "love".

She gazed at the guy with a look that said "You´re wrong if you thought you´d get me". He cleared his throat and took his chain watch out, he apologized for taking so long and thanked immensely those who stayed during the _intermezzo_ , he dismissed the four spectators and casted a last glance on Odette, the sort of which she could not identify as she gathered her skirts and returned to her seat where Orlena was eagerly waiting for her.

-Heavens child! – she said, -was it the wine?

-Was it stupid?

-Not for me. Are you drunk?

-Don´t know, I don´t think so but maybe the wine did make me talk a bit more that I´d normally have… Can we go?

-Thought you wouldn´t ask- admitted Orlena, no one could say for sure what´d happen after Odette´s original presentation on her point of view once she was outside and vulnerable. So they deemed wise to retire sooner.

As they left, Odette could already sense many, many stares drilling at the back of her head and thanked God there were no events as they got in the carriage and headed home. Orlena paid the driver and they got into the small kitchen where Philippe was reading the night´s newspaper, "Britain´s Bride" already closed.

-How did it go?

-Well my dear brother… remember how you said this little girl looked like an ice maiden?

-Hummm… yeah.

-She´s got everything BUT ice on her insides and she proofed it tonight on stage.

-WHAT?

They quickly referred Philippe what had happened and he laughed and messed fatherly on Odette´s locks.

-Such a wolfmaid…

-Shut up!- Orlena replied worriedly, -what will we do?

-What´s the problem?

-What if some of our clients recognize her and… and…

-And what? – he said, not seeing any trouble, -Odette got up there, said her opinion and that was about it, if someone DID recognize her, and I say this because she was probably tiny as to the seats our usual customers could allow themselves to pay, what would they do except to agree or disagree with her? C´mon Lena, no one will come looking for a fight with a little girl.

-Little woman now, if you ask me- she replied again, much calmer than before.

-Well, we better get some sleep. You too Odette, this was a rushed night- he said pushing the little woman towards the old staircase.

Next day, during daylight, Odette concentrated on her lessons; Florance said that if she continued her hard work, she would issue the recommendation letter for the Opera House the following week and Odette came home as happy as Christmas jingles.

When Orlena opened the tavern, Odette sighed… there, at the table in the corner, sat her bright green eyed admirer, with two way quieter friends.

-Wolfmaid!- he shouted, earning an annoyed look of other customers who were chatting or playing cards.

She approached and shot him a poisoned gaze.

-Keep shouting at me like that and I promise I´ll show you how much of a wolf I am- she whispered menacingly.

The guy turned white and after a moment, he scratched his head, messing his wavy auburn curls and making him look way younger than he was, almost like a scolded little child.

-Sorry, sorry… I´d call you by your name, but I don´t really know it. Would you please bring me some warm spiced wine? – he asked, an intent grin dancing across his features as he casted an adoring look to her face.

Odette rolled her eyes and grabbed her tray a bit more firmly, not wanting to crush it against his stupid smirk… she knew he´d been at the theatre the previous night and had spotted her drinking, else he wouldn´t have asked for the damn spiced wine. Trying to hold herself together, she closed her eyes and heard the other man´s voice:

-Please forgive him Madame, he knows little about manners. I´d like a beer pint.

Odette nodded and looked at the third man, but got trapped in his eyes as soon as she did, a knot formed in her throat when a pair of expressive dark hazel pupils under black lashes stared back as her hands turned cold.

There he was, the last person she thought she´d meet in this buried and trenched bar, she would never forget his face since it was all she saw at the academy for days and days, her admiration for his dance returned as a tidal wave.

He´d grown an elegant, good-trimmed beard since his last photograph on the brochures and his handsome face revealed her he was not much older that herself.

Louis Mérante, the man who´d broken an impossible world record just weeks ago, was looking at her curiously.

Finally, he spoke with a silky voice in a metallic tone

-I´d also like a beer pint, please. Half full.

Odette nodded once more and turned back trying not look so startled and stiff, she picked the service of another table and took their money before allowing herself to look back. Mérante was talking and laughing, flesh and blood at her workplace, she grabbed her necklace again, so furiously its edges almost cut her fingers.

She wanted a position as a student in the Opera House and that young man was teaching there… should she talk to him? Should she ask him for something? Mérante was a piece of her dream fallen into that dusty corner, fire ran through her veins and tickled her palms.

-Odette! You´re about to spill the beer!- said Philippe.

She hurriedly closed the tab and looked back again as she apologized. Not too sure how to proceed, she went back to the table and delivered the order as well as a cheese and bread board with a plate of Spanish and Italian cold cuts.

They thanked her and the police boy was asking something about her name when Philippe took his violin out and Orlena prepared herself to climb on the wooden counter that functioned as her stage. This gave Odette an opportunity to walk away and keep thinking.

She ended up deciding she´d just make a good impression for now; if the odds were on her part, Mérante would come back or better yet, he´d recognize her at the Opera House and made her stay there a bit more interesting by taking her as a pupil…

"Noup, that´s dreaming too much" she admitted while cleaning one of the sky blue tables and took some empty jars with her to refill them.

* * *

 **A/N Thank you all for your patience!**

 **I´m so glad you´re liking this, so I was able to upload a longer chapter. I´ll reply to your wonderful reviews in a little bit**

 **Seriously guys... you´re the best! ;)**


	6. A wild ice maiden

**Chapter VI**

 **A wild ice maiden**

Mérante ended up inviting Connor and Beaumont to the theatre function with him.

Things were good, he´d gotten out of his parents´ place just a week after his big break, they seemed almost relieved until he told them he´d be taking with him everything he´d bought using his money; which included most of his bedroom and a couple of trunks full of stuff he had acquired a bit more recently: kitchen and dining room hardware, white bedding and some furniture that he´d send directly to a rented storage, they´d stay there till he could afford his own apartment. For saving purposes, he´d been staying with Monsieur Beaumont since then.

The Opera House director fulfilled his promise of having him as a tutor for beginners´ class; truth be told he was more of an apprentice but he liked learning as it was something he had stopped doing for some time now and the sensation of starting again was quite refreshing. The press was still talking of the big loss Louis Mérante´s absence represented for the Ballet stage but applauded his teaching endeavor with all the hypocrisy and double sensed kindness only the newspapers were capable of pulling off.

His parents never wrote to him and at first it hurt a little; but as weeks passed, time took over that sting and Mérante spent the entire day at the Opera looking after his new students and preparing them for small recitals their parents excited about him instructing their children.

Joan D´Autrelle said her goodbyes to the angry lion as she was fond of calling him and a new Prima Ballerina was yet to be chosen, the director had asked Mérante´s opinion on this subject but no new girl had taken the roll yet. As a distraction to his new demanding way of living, Beaumont reminded him of the theatre tickets Madame D´Autrelle had given him some weeks past and suggested asking Connor out as well, an invitation to which Mérante had fully agreed after having turned down so many outing´s offers from the Irish young man before.

They dressed with good tailored suits and headed for the theatre, Connor was already there with the new _smoking_ Beaumont and Mérante had given him early that week, he insisted he´d pay back but accepted it nonetheless since his wages weren´t really that good yet.

-You get paid for studying?

-Hell no mate, only for extra rounds when seniors don't want to. That´s my only chance of making extra cash.

And they chatted as they waited the big crystal doors to the theatre boxes to be opened. The main topic for Connor was that he was in love.

A beautiful barmaid, he´d said, making both Mérante and Beaumont look at each other in skepticism for Connor didn´t even know the girl´s name.

-She´s as pretty as a winter sunset mate- he described her, -Works at the tavern I talked to you about in my letters.

Then he had opened his eyes until they looked like they would pop out and pointed his index finger at someone behind them; his mouth open semingly gasping for air.

-That´s extremely rude my friend- said Beaumont who hated bad manners.

-That´s her! –Connor whispered, -the wolfmaid!

-The what? - Mérante asked more than a bit confused.

His friend grabbed him by the collar and practically grabbed him to the edge of the staircase, below them was a young lady dressed in a simple blue velvet dress drinking warm red wine, Mérante admired the sober elegance of her attire and saw her big blue eyes… or were they purple? drinking in her surroundings.

-Well, she´s very pretty Connor- granted Beaumont next to them.

-Pretty? She´s beautiful!

Mérante was used to see beautiful women in expensive party dresses and decided that wasn´t it. Sure her long silhouette made her stand out among others but… there was something else there, the long wavy dark hair and lack of jewelry accentuated her features making her look like an ice statue someone had left there.

-She´s got a wild beauty about her- pointed his old tutor. Once again, his words had hit the right spot. Mérante studied her more intently, there was ice and there was steel… odds were his good friend had no real chance to get her, he was all bronze warm greeting sunshine that could drown kisses in a wine cup.

But she was something else entirely… like a cold goodnight farewell in winter.

-She´s a dancer- his teacher said, -look at the way she walks.

It was true, Mérante´s experienced eyes also noticed it, she moved with a certain grace difficult to find in people that wasn´t familiar with dancing. He smiled as he saw Connor´s loving green eyes on the girl.

-Move on Romeo, the doors have opened- he announced while pushing him back. They found their box and talked no more as the play started, except when Beaumont mentioned him the same thing he´d observed earlier… Connor had no real connection to his newfound crush; and from what they´ve seen they were as different as day and night.

The play was stupid, Mérante had seen enough arguments of this kind between his parents to find any originality in the dialogs, he even thought he might have directed the play himself.

He was set up in convincing his friends into leaving the theatre after the sorry attempt of an entertaining _intermezzo_ on a random man´s part until the guy summoned Connor´s newly found love on stage.

The young woman climbed up the stairs and looked like she was about to punch anything that moved within arm´s reach, she came to the frontline looking quite annoyed and used a harsh tone to point out her opinion; her voice boomed through the dome with a silver bell´s clarity.

She was not someone to be trifled with and Mérante found somewhat praiseworthy the firm trust she had on her sex´s strength. Her cold manners removing any kind of flirtation she might be using, she was who she was, never trying to be someone else… if one found her likeable or not made little difference.

For someone used to a society filled with masks and makeup, it was an interesting change for him to say the least. In her, Mérante saw nothing but iron, ice and bluish beams of light.

He turned to look at Connor, if he was head over heels for the young woman before, he could now vow his friend was so infatuated he´d surely declare her his supposed love at the slightest chance

She went back to her seat after defending her posture so fervently, and Beaumont bended over to him so he could speak to his ear:

-If the girl´s got as much spirit as it seems, it´s more than likely she´ll blow Connor off before he can even say so much as a hi.

Mérante wasn´t sure how he´d managed to restrain a sudden burst of laughter; when he was about to reply with how interesting it would turn out to be if Connor did manage to get something out of her besides a punch, he saw the girl leaving her seat at the pit and heading for the exit… and restrained himself from pointing it out to Connor... later, he found troubling he didn´t even know why he´d been quiet.

After the play, before heading for Beaumont´s house, Connor asked them to go with him to Britain´s Bride the next evening.

-She works there- he explained, his eyes so bright they looked like two huge lampposts.

Mérante laughed and accepted the invitation.

And not only because he wanted to spend time with his friend. Somehow, as he stared at the ceiling, lying on his bed he realized the blue dress had the same tone of the roses in his dreams.

He spent the next day lost in the Academy´s maze of hallways and rooms, he was in a bad mood and shouted instructions and corrections to his students more than usual. Beaumont had taken into private tutoring two other dancers now that Louis was no longer in need of his services and Mérante barely saw him around the Opera anymore.

Monsieur Auguste Vaucorbeli, the directort came again to ask him to take a glimpse at the oldest girl´s class and argue with other teachers about the next prima ballerina; it was either that or bring someone from another country… maybe Prussia or the kingdoms north of Rome. Mérante promised he´d give it some thought and would be observing the older ballerinas carefully.

He had lunch at a local restaurant, the establishments were disseminated all over the _I´Opéra_ district and Italian food had taken prominence as of late; but for his taste they used a bit too many condiments and the options for food with no meat was scarce.

It´s not like he didn´t enjoy a good veal steak, but realized he felt way lighter and soundly rested at night now that he´d left meat out of his diet; and despite Vaucorbeli´s insistence with giving a try to "Madame LeHaut´s" a young widow´s new restaurant that had opened its doors not long ago, Mérante preferred small not crowded places to have his meals. At the end of the day he was about to head home when he saw Beaumont waiting for him at the lobby. Suddenly remembering the appointment with Connor and breathing heavily, Mérante joined his previous tutor and headed for _the Pantheón_ district where "Britain´s Bride" tavern was located.

-You seem in a bad mood.

-I am- he replied sounding harsher than he meant, -Vaucorbeli´s obsessed with finding a new Prima ballerina before next month and has asked me to inspect potential candidates the whole afternoon; had no time to prepare my lesson for tomorrow and my students look more like newborn fawns trying to walk than the swans they´re supposed to be.

-Well, relax now –cheered Beaumont, while crossing the river bridge, -Now you´ll enjoy a whole new type of spectacle.

Mérante rolled his eyes. Looking at his freckled friend trying to ask the barmaid out was as appealing as spending the rest of the evening stripping petals from daisies.

They approached the neighborhood where the Rue Royale crossed Les Innocents graveyard talking about Mérante´s plans to move out of Beaumont´s place and rent an apartment now that his income was high enough, they kept walking until they found Connor waiting for them outside the bar. He was wearing the police´s uniform with no insignia since he was still a student and his bright expression made Mérante compare him to an excited cat gloating for a milk bowl. Connor waved his friend to come closer.

-Good God mate!- he said looking with critical eye at his friends´ clothes, -next time you roam at night around here, try wearing a gold coin on your forehead… it´ll be easier for robbers to spot you.

-What do you mean?

Connor sighed and kept studying them

-Your hats are good… since they blend you with other people. Get a bigger coat next time, to hide the silk of the neckties and the gold of your watch´s chain. Believe me, if the richmen that often visit the police station bothered to take care of themselves, half the robbery in Paris would disappear.

Beaumont pulled his hat on and tried to close the front of his coat, his belly getting in the way and causing the Irish young man to smile.

-Just have it mind next time.

Rumors of laughter and soft Breton music came from inside the tavern.

-Well, let´s get in! -Connor´s good humor was back at the top, he practically pushed his friends towards the door, stumbling against the stone steps as they felt the hearth´s warm and saw their comely and quaint surroundings.

Connor guided them to an unoccupied table at the back of the bar and sat excitedly as his green pupils scanned the place.

Mérante was used to have a couple of drinks in a bar as much as any man his age; but soon decided the cozy tavern was one of the best. It was homely and cheery, filled with working men who relaxed after a long day and women who joined their husbands and boyfriends to find some solace away of their busy days. He could see the big ale and wine barrels, behind the front bar, long shelves were filled with different bottles of whisky and Russian vodka, Portuguese port and cider, all lined up and appealing to the thirsty eye; from the kitchen came the smell of spicy potatoes and baking garlic bread.

He eyed Beaumont and saw he enjoyed the place as much as him. Considering he just had to cross the Seine to get there, he decided if this night was agreeable, he´d visit the tavern a bit more often.

-There she is!- announced Connor with a dreamy voice, then he shouted –Wolfmaid!

Mérante raised an eyebrow under his hat, happy his friend couldn´t see the expression on his face. "What´s the big idea, insulting her?"

-Keep calling me that and I´ll show you how much of a wolf I am- she replied when she was close enough, her voice whipped in his ears and he compared the sound with the cracking of ice.

Connor apologized and mumbled something in a voice too low to comprehend. When Beaumont asked for his drink, Mérante picked at the smell of roses this maid exhaled; he stared at her intrigued and more than a bit curious. The young woman looked directly at his eyes, another thing she did differently to most women, he noticed.

She listened to his order with such an indifference he thought she hadn´t heard him, then nodded and turned around, her moves were surprisingly smooth like a feather floating along the blue wooden tables.

-Connor- he heard his old tutor, -She doesn´t look too happy when you use her nickname; I think it´d be less rude you asked her actual name.

-What do you think I´ve been asking her since I met her? - he said in a sad tone, -I´d have an easier time talking to a wall mate.

Mérante laughed and noticed that somehow the longer he heard about her, the more he wanted to keep listening.

She came back with their order and when he looked at her again, she was looking right back with an indecipherable expression... he froze and ended up comparing it to the look a predator gives another before engaging in battle. Connor asked for her name but before she could reply, an idiot with a violin started playing, unleashing some sort of animal instinct in the other customers; they all started yelling and cheering as another barmaid climbed the counter to drum the wood with noisy stomping that prevented anyone from speaking, and the slippery maid left their table.

Since Mérante couldn´t talk, he could only watch… little did he know his decision had been like shooting a bullet through his mind, an iron bullet with blue winter starlight at its core, a bullet that froze his heart and melted it later that night when he stared at the roof in his room.

Connor had left right before the fiddle music finished, disheartened and with a terrible sense of defeat crushing him. The barmaid had refused to talk to him after refilling his pint twice, indignant at all his "wolfmaid" yelling and his remarks about her participation on the theater stage the day before.

But Mérante had stayed with Beumont till finishing their drinks and food; he caught the wolfmaid´s name when the fiddler asked for her help in pilling up logs for the hearth.

Odette.

Sleep came to him when he thought with no small degree of something he could only classify as relief, that if she was a dancer a Beaumont was so confident about, she somehow would be part of the world he was planning to spend the rest of his life in.

* * *

 **A/N You guys are great!**

 **Never thought this idea would have more than 100 views.**

 **For those of you who are wondering... yes, the tavern Britain´s Bride is the same bar where Félicie dances in the film.**

 **Pls let me know your thoughts :3**


	7. Under a Christmas winter moon

**CHAPTER VII**

 **Under a Christmas´ winter moon**

Odette crossed the Seine and headed for the Opera House as she had been doing every day since the recommendation letter issued by Florance, her old ballet teacher, had been accepted there. The director shouting and expressing his acceptance in the noisiest and to Odette, the dumbest looking, way possible.

The Opera was always busy, she had classified for the top coryphées' level and her new tutor, Dimitriv Kerloff a man in his mid-fifties, had made sure the grace she had when dancing didn´t puff her up. There were times she thought he´d throw his shoe at her if she got the wrong move, but later… after class, the room was hers. And she would practice again, and again till sunset when she headed back to the tavern, there were strange times when she´d thought there was someone on the inner balcony of the room, but every time she´d stop to look the presence was gone.

They were in midwinter already and when she announced Orlena and Philippe her intention of going back to her village for the Christmas period and how she´d be back in early January; they´d hugged her and when she left Orlena gave her a big and soft Christmas pudding to deliver at the flower shop in congratulation for Hugo and Apolline´s wedding.

Odette got to her little town when afternoon´s snowflakes were falling on the street, after she crossed the door and the familiar flowery smell filled her to the very core… she knew she was home.

Apolline was a delightful noisy old hag as she remembered her and Hugo would caress her head as Odette smiled thinking how ridiculous she´d look now that she was taller than him; the old man had trembling lips and watery eyes when he saw the dangling wolf necklace he´d given her but pretended he was just about to sneeze.

That night they ate Orlena´s pudding as Odette told them everything about her time in the big city, not without mentioning how much she´d miss them.

-You´ve grown so much little one!- exclaimed Apolline while they washed the dishes in the back of the shop, the way they did when Odette was still a florist girl, -I can no longer call you little one! – she smirked, -And you´re so beautiful now I barely recognized you when you came through the door… And look at you! - she grasped Odette´s skirt with a soapy hand, -Horrible, we´ll get you new ones… besides your clothes for the wedding of course, you´ll get to be my bridesmaid! You won´t be as pretty as me sure, but who knows? Maybe that dirty weasel of Cornell will notice you.

-I´d rather not- replied Odette, Cornell was the one-eyed parish clerk, always insisting he had lost his eyeball at war which was funny considering the last one had finished before he was born.

Next day, Apolline spent it in making a whole new change of clothes for Odette, she and Hugo had had every little detail for the wedding already planned and were just waiting for Odette to be resettled for she would take care of the flowershop on their honeymoon, which was scheduled to last a fortnight right after Christmas Eve. Odette rolled her eyes at their plan, she was expecting something of the sort but wouldn´t have thought they´d leave her on New Year´s Eve as well.

-We´ve asked the Beaumonts to have you! – they apologized, the Beaumonts were the bakers of the town and often traded with Hugo for herbs and flowers which they used in their breads or desserts, a family so big Odette doubted they´d notice if all their kids were at their table during meals, -And they said they´d be delighted, you know how much Madame Beaumont appreciates you.

Odette differed since last time she made a delivery to the lady, intended for her sister-in-law, the woman had laughed at the flower arrangement and called it tasteless and something she could´ve found on the field, an insult Odette found unforgivable since she had made the flower arrangement herself and took a bunch of flowers on the lake side as a model.

Of course that had been a long time ago, but Odette could still hear Madame Beaumont´s raucous laugh on her ears.

Two days later, Christmas Eve was there and on the same day, the wedding. Odette dressed in a jocular and cheerful green coat, with fluffy white bear fur on her fists and collar. Everyone said she looked lovely while she thought herself a Christmas elf helping Apolline get on the carriage that would take her and Hugo across country France for their honeymoon.

On the morning after Christmas she checked the temperature in the glassgarden, the late delivery of Christmas trees took her almost the entire day; she closed the shop early and went ice skating on the frozen lake. Several families were there but she did her best to ignore them and practiced, hoping the extra difficulty on the ice would helped her improve much more than on wooden floor. Her graceful movements were not as smooth on the hardened water, but her hops and turns marked her as a fun target for the kids, who as soon as she landed or went slow enough were all around her. Flushed cheeks and rosy nose; Odette managed to make the kids help her; she commended each one to look at different aspects on her executions: one would look at how much icedust she splayed when landing, other at the angle of her twirls, other at the cuts she made on the ice with her skateblades and so forth; not really realizing how unusually useful her technique was, she was just being herself, the dancer that saw practice in every step and could take as partner the wind itself.

-Hey Odette! Can you show me how you do that?

-I´ll think about it…- she said, outwardly mysterious and inwardly amused as she removed the blades from her shoes, sitting on a dry trunk on the side of the frozen lake.

-I´m so going to be a ballet dancer when I grow up as well!

-Odette, when you… Odette?

She was totally still on the mainroad just outside the flowershop and looked directly at two men descending a carriage in front of the bakery.

-Monsieur Beaumont!- cheered some of the children while they ran to his side.

-Uncle!- exclaimed one of the girls.

-My, my, mademoiselle Gabrielle… aren´t you a lady now? Look at you

Odette recognized the man that had visited "Britain´s Bride" frequently after her debut on that stupid theater stage; his kind tone and warm demeanor where almost identical to those of his brother, the town´s baker. "Idiot" she thought "No wonder his gestures were a bit familiar"

-You should see Adelaide!- the little girl replied, -She has grown so much more than me this year! Odette even told her she could help her at cutting the flowers in Monsieur Hugo´s glassgardens!- she announced, a bit envious.

-Really? The glassgardens? - Beaumont replied looking up, where the other crowd of children was, taking a bit of time to recognize the silhouette in the middle of it.

Adelaide came forward.

-Yeah, but Odette said she´d show you how to skate on ice. I´d like that too you know Gabrielle…

But the older man had eyes only for the young woman standing meters away from him.

-You… you are Hugo´s little florist girl?

Odette, half dead of shame but still too brave to cower behind the door, moved forward.

-Yes Monsieur.

-All this time?

-Since I was little, yes.

-You know her from before? - said a silk husky voice from behind the carriage, Odette didn´t have to look at his face to see who it was. She knew his face and she knew his voice, floating to her from the classrooms where he taught his own students or the hallways where he passed by talking with the director or with other tutors.

Louis Mérante stood before her as something hot and wet licked her veins, she imagined it was her wolfblood and somehow she was thankful for it… made her feel more confident and less like Babette, the blacksmith´s daughter, who would only come out of her house at night because of her bashfulness.

She admired the young ballet master: the winter boots and his excellent tailored black coat, the circled beard favored him remarkably and those dark hazel eyes that were gazing back at her.

They stood in silence for a bit until Beaumont spoke.

-I did not know you were the one working for Monsieur Hugo, this is a happy coincidence indeed- he said while removing his hat and closing the small distance between them, - Sorry mademoiselle, we have not been properly introduced and I´m afraid I left for Paris long before you were born. I am Armand Beaumont, older brother to Denis with whom I´m sure you´re quite familiar with- he announced kissing her hand delicately. Odette assumed Denis was the bakery´s owner.

-This is Louis Mérante- Beaumont continued as his friend came closer, Odette could see some snowflakes falling on his thick lashes -We´re both currently working in ballet tutoring- he finished as Mérante bowed to her hand without kissing it since he never once stopped looking at her eyes, something she found a bit odd. Was he trying to intimidate her?

-Ballet? - shouted the kids.

-You too Monsieur?

-No way!

-Odette, did you hear?

-Odette is a ballerina!

-And dances like a white swan!

-You´ve never seen a swan dancing, you idiot.

-I´m sorry Monsieur Beaumont, - she interrupted before any more chaos could breed –My name is Odette, and as I´m sure you just heard… I´m currently a ballet student at the Opera House.

She deliberately didn´t mention her lastname, the tragic accident of the fire in her childhood had been newspaper material and she had no wish to put up with pity looks; she refused to endure anymore of those, they always managed to make her dragon murmur at night.

-Really? Monsieur Mérante here works at the Opera.

She didn´t bother to look surprised, she knew he worked there but there was no reason for her to talk to him and since Odette wasn´t in the beginners´ class, she refused to be seen by him, a bit shy at the possibility he might recognize her as the tavern´s wolfmaid.

-I have seen you from the distance mademoiselle, but I was never sure if it was you- Mérante said, lying or speaking the truth, Odette could not tell.

-Armand!- shouted a third voice from the bakery´s door.

A man dressed in white, with oven-burnt skin, thick arms and a round belly ran towards his brother and gave him a bear hug, dusting his brown coat with flour.

-Denis!

-How have you been?

-Missing family as always little brother.

Madame Beaumont came rushing after her husband and hugged her brother-in-law as well.

-Good to see you Armand!

-The pleasure is all mine Didi.

-We were just discussing the menu for the dinner and…oh well, but who´s this handsome young man?

Introductions were made and Odette thought she was no longer necessary, she started to say her farewells and saw Mérante was about to say something else when Monsieur Beaumont, the baker, exclaimed:

-Wait Odette! Hugo asked us to look after you during these days and there´s no way we´d let you roam around those damn glass-houses anymore. If you´d like, secure the shop and come dine with us.

She hoped the sunset light masked her sudden pallor, but realized there was no way to decline without being rude.

-Thank you Monsieur, I shall do so. At what time should I..

-At whatever time girl- said his wife, slightly amused at Odette´s formality, - Knock on the door when you´re ready, oh… and would you please bring some rose petals for tea? My mother has been a bit delicate lately, they don´t have to be fresh.

Odette nodded bowing slightly and when she turned, she saw Mérante bowed as well.

She went back to the flowershop and tried to find stuff to do, she cursed her previous responsibility for she had cleaned and prepared the flowers for the next day before going ice skating. As she headed for the glassgardens to grab some roses for Madame Beaumont she realized that Mérantes eyes and face kept appearing in her mind, judging it all to be a girl´s silly thoughts she shook her head and tried to distract herself by lighting the small stove in the hallway so it wasn´t freezing when she came back.

The admiration she held for the ballet master was real, that was to be sure, but she decided she´d discover that night if he was an artist or a total idiot, she changed her skating clothes for something a bit more appropriate for dining in someone else´s house: a long woolen black overshirt that covered her new dark silken corset, a sapphire blue bodice and another green wool skirt that covered her boots, she looked at her reflection and saw the spring girl in her wither away as the winter maid in the mirror emerged… but that was about it, because the multiple colors made her look as a rotten flower someone left behind a vase; the main reason was probably the only piece of clothing that was truly hers was the bodice, the rest being Apolline´s… even the petticoat. The woman had no time to finish the girl´s new outfit before Christmas and only managed to make her a corset, the bodice and a Bavarian inspired _dirndl_ she was supposed to wear on New Year´s Eve, beautiful and light, she doubted it was appropriate for the snow but Apolline insisted.

Odette sighed and decided to wear the black skirt, didn´t matter if she looked too dark; she put on Hugo´s French cloak deciding it wasn´t too masculine and tied her hair in a ponytail, grabbing the rose petal´s bowls she reached for the door knob.

Mérante was outside the shop´s door.

Well, him and Monsieur Beaumont but she couldn´t help her eyes from noticing the young ballet master first. Her heart pounded… probably from the cold.

-A storm is coming mademoiselle- said Beaumont, -We wanted to make sure you didn´t change your mind- he smiled gently.

Odette managed to avoid looking at Mérante´s face and answered

-Thank you Monsieur, but the bakery is just across the square… if the thought of cancelling ever crossed my mind I could´ve gone and said so myself.

Somehow Beaumont thought she was the strangest kind of young lady he´d ever met; with her flowery smell and the un-flirty gestures that gave her a special mysterious charm, while they walked he saw Mérante out from the corner of his eye, gazing at the girl´s nape.

As they walked into his good-sister´s dining room crowded with people and food, he decided to watch Mérante for the rest of the evening. His little nieces and nephews seemed to love this lady and fought over where she would sit.

-Here Odette! It´s closer to the hearth!

-She hates hearths you silly

-But it´s freezing out there!

-Hush!- urged their mother as she grabbed the bowl Odette was giving her, -Thank you sweetling, please allow this dynamites grab your cloak and sit wherever you deem… necessary to save us all – she winked.

The florist removed her overcoat and sat on the middle of the table, opposite the hearth. The oldest kids were bringing bowls full of chicken and potato soup, steamed vegetables and roasted lamb shanks with rosemary, garlic bread, honey and raspberry sauce and light red wine to wash it down.

-Gabrielle- called his brother Denis, -Please girl, I think the snow you brought must be melted by now, fill a jug and bring it for you and your siblings… won´t have you drinking wine just yet.

Denis sat at the head of the table with his wife Didi at his left and Beaumont to his right, followed by Mérante, two more children and the oldest kid at the other table top, then came Gabrielle and Odette, next to her was his other niece Adelaide, who breathed the young ballerina´s hair and shouted with bright eyes.

-Odette, you always smell so nice!

-Just like roses!

-That´s a new necklace!

-So scary... Addy! Look! It´s a dog.

-It´s a wolf silly- replied the girl, almost climbing on Odette´s waist and grabbing her long locks to look at her neck.

To Beaumonts surprise, Odette didn´t look annoyed or irritated. Strange since it was her normal mood at the tavern and from that first time she saw her in the theatre.

She looked relaxed and ready to smile, with the soft curl of her lips accentuating her lushly pale features

-When I grow up, I want to be like you Odette.

The young woman left the spoon to stare at Gabrielle and told her with a hoarse tone.

-When you grow up, you´ll want to be yourself Gabrielle. You´ll see you´re far better than me

-But…

-Gabrielle! - called her mother –Please leave Odette alone for a bit and eat.

Beaumont heard his brother asking Mérante about what he thought of the countryside now that he was visiting, but had to repeat the question much to Beaumont astonishment… for if Mérante wasn´t listening to his host talking to him, he must´ve had his attention fixed on something else.

-Excuse me, sir.

Denis smiled and they both chatted during some minutes, Beaumont trying discreetly to look at his young friend when he finished talking. There was no little surprise when he caught him eyeing the ballerina on the other side of the table, engaged at the moment on some kind of competition between the two little girls and Eugéne, his oldest nephew, over who could finish their plate first.

Surprisingly, Gabrielle won.

-No fair!- said her brother, -you had like a third of what the rest of us had on our plates.

-Win´s a win- said Odette giving small pats at his niece´s back to prevent her from choking, she looked at her glass and randomly asked for the water´s jug.

Mérante passed it.

Beaumont stared at his friend, oh God, he´d seen a look like that in many men´s faces. But never saw it on his old pupil.

At the very least, it was an admiration look. At the very worst, it was an intrigued look, the kind of intrigue that started with flowers and roses, passing to wine and dancing and finished with moonsongs and broken hearts. In blue velvet, the ballerina was like a bluish ice virgin… here and now, one could realize Odette´s wild beauty flourished from within, her manners had a raw rashness and her eyes shined violet in reflection to the warm hearth´s golden light, her untamed naturalness flowed from her heart now no longer encased in its usual frost.

He´d just have to ask which version of the admiration or intrigued look Mérante was using.

-Mother! Are we going to give her the present?

-Oh yes, but that´s for dessert…- replied Didi mysteriously, -Hugo and Apolline said they´d pay you for dessert here every day, it´s custom made.

-Really? - She said, utterly surprised.

After Odette finished, Didi brought her a small individual dessert, -Monsieur Hugo specifically entrusted us with this task for you.

The dessert was an apple cinnamon cake; he could sniff at it from where he was. On top of it there was an artistic frosting arranged in the shape of blue roses.

-He´d say you´d understand it.

-I do- she said, too touched to reply anything else.

But she ended up sharing the cake with the kids.

After the table was cleared, Beaumont decided to absorb the children´s attention towards him and see what would Mérante do now that Odette was unoccupied.

With his nieces and nephews around him, the young lady was able to catch her breath and sat on a small stool, the farthest from the hearth. If she had caught the eye of his young pupil, he´d try to get closer under a different excuse than attempting to warm himself.

Minutes passed and Beaumont thought that maybe his suspicions were unfounded when Mérante walked over to the stool, Odette calm and sleepy. Cursing himself for he was too far away from them to hear anything, he tried to discreetly observe their talk.

Mérante seemed cool and relaxed, polite and correct and not giving too much away by his demeanor and it could´ve passed as small chat for the non-observant viewer, but Beaumont knew better for Mérante´s eyes never left the girl´s face as if he were trying to memorize it.

Beaumont had never really seen anyone that had caught his young pupil´s attention, every attempt the other ballerinas or music girls at the Opera had been shut down almost immediately, then again he´d never seen anyone like Odette before and he no longer could blame Connor for having her as a crush, for even Mérante had fallen…

His inner laugh almost deafened him; he wasn´t sure of course but odds were even.

The cold ballerina who could very well either skate on hard ice or serve foamy beer on hard floor; such a curious combination that no one could leave it pass without noticing. He wondered if Odette knew the peculiar magic her smell and her eyes were capable of imbuing; ice and steel on the outside while her life roared from eyes that no one could surely say were blue or purple.

Mérante tried his best not to lean, but even Beaumont saw he found it difficult. Some sort of barrier was melting and Odette´s mirth over the conversation was palpable.

-I´d love if Monsieur Kerloff could think the same way. Can´t really say I enjoy fearing for my life or the pianist´s every time either makes a mistake.

-Still, I know Monsieur Kerloff has only three pupils, so you must be very talented or have a very strong heart.

-Well, I´m not to judge my talent sir, as for my heart… life has taken care of its strength.

-One could say life has the sole purpose of shaping us using very difficult experiences.

Odette remained quiet for a bit, doubting he was trying to use such a lowly hissing voice on purpose. Trying to keep her tempered wolf in check, she replied without looking at him.

-I´d give something to know it.

-What?

-The experience you talked about.

-Simple curiosity or simple gossip? – he asked, his fangs back on… Odette couldn´t figure him out. When he first talked to her, she was weary fame and good looks had made him an insufferable idiot; but he wasn´t.

Then she thought being pushed constantly to perfection had made him bitter and pragmatic, like a snake trying to bite; but he wasn´t.

Next, after half an hour of casual conversation, she decided he was black… black elegance, black strength, black temptation into diving in his voice and never look back. And standing there next to her, smelling of expensive cologne with a drop of the wine he drank at dinner, she saw a lion. Dark hazel eyes and the blind black fortitude that had brought him where he was; making his rude fixedness in staring at her almost a compliment; for somehow she´d managed to stop a powerful storm and made it look at her in the eye.

But there was no room for compliments, there was no room for anything really. He´d been subtly testing her during the whole conversation, and she had no idea if his daring had crushed on her as a ballerina or as a human being. Yet somehow, she found herself caring to pass the challenges… and deep down she knew that if he´d been any other man, she would have blown him off long ago.

"This is total madness" but the wolf was howling. Outside, the winter moon shined in all its might and she found herself wishing she had stayed in the glassgardens cutting rose´s thorns from the stems, it was far less puzzling than the puddling mess her mind was turning into.

-Simple selfpity- she replied, cold as ice.

And to her satisfaction, he seemed out of words.

-I´m sorry sweetling- interrupted Madame Beaumont, but Odette felt as if she had emptied a water bucket on top of her, she was grateful, maybe it would take away that golden spark suddenly nestled in the base of her spine, -The storm might get worse and it´s likely it´ll stop from even crossing the street if you want to leave later.

Odette sent hundred blessings to the skies and made her leave; said hurried farewells, put Hugo´s cloak on and went back to the flowershop, running and looking at the sky.

Out of the lion´s reach, she felt like a wolf again, her blood singing and the fierce melody in her soul seemed to send a storm of blue roses towards the winter moon. "Am I drunk?" she thought, "I´m … I´m…" she felt, not realizing Louis Mérante was still looking at her silhouette from the window.

* * *

 **A/N So sorry for the delay guys! But writing regularly became complicated since uni starts next week and I also restarted at my part time job... so life is tough again XDXD**

 **And I DID start a chapter... but I wasn´t really IN LOVE with it, and i refused to give you guys something not worth while. So... what do you guys think? You can´t imagine how difficult it was to think of these two talking for the first time! Had to watch the movie thrice and...I fell for them all over again :3**

 **Now, I´ll answer your sweet reviews here to non-account users ;)**

 **Loren** _Glad you liked it! The reason I take so much time in making it is because ballet is a really delicate art and this ship is sooooo cute XD_

 **Tess** _Here you go :3 hoped you enjoy reading as much as I writing it. It´s very important for me the story follows a natural order because all the symbolism makes it surreal, so at least we need to have that. Don´t you think?_

 **Guest** _Awww, it really warms my heart to see you that impatient ;)_

 **Karen García** _IKR, It´s very touching you appreciate this the way I do. I love the movie and I shipped Mérante and Odette the minute I looked at them. Sad there´s so few shippers :/ but at least we know it was us who started it :3_

 **Just me** _The background for me was really important since it´s the foundation of the rest, the romance and the loveliness of these two is a bit fluffy, but those reality dots every now and then are what gives the story the balance for the magic, XDXD_

 **Thank you all! You are the best and please remember to R &R to let me know what you think ;)**


	8. Of kings and queens

**Chapter VIII**

 **Of kings and queens**

-Well, she got you.

-Excuse me?

-Don´t bother to deny it Louis.

Mérante knew pretending innocence was as stupid as trying to shoot a ghost, but still tried to defend himself.

-She´s Connor´s sweetheart- he said even though much to his shame, a couple of hours ago, Connor was the last person on his mind.

-She´s nothing of the sort, and she never will be - replied his old tutor putting on his nightclothes, -you know that, I know that and I bet even she knows it. So, stop being a whining prick and say something.

-What do you want me to say? Connor is my friend, he was there first– for some reason, he was furious.

-Connor IS your friend, true. And he´s my friend as well, and as far as I know friends are there to keep each other from getting hurt or making brainless decisions. Odette would make him suffer, she already does but on the other side; she seems to make your mind spry.

-That´s…

-A hard truth, and yet hard truths are the ones we should hold on most.

-Regardless, this is dangerous territory for friendship and…

-Is it dangerous to have someone between your heartstrings? – Beaumont interrupted again, realizing he was actually enjoying this exchange. Putting Mérante on edge was something no one could do easily, and making him snarl like an angry lion was resulting quite entertaining… almost as amusing as when he defended his ambitions in front of his parents, his father turning green and his mother red while he retorted lazy freedom quotes he´d heard somewhere before; astounded at how square-minded they were, -Most people I know come to like the taste of it.

Mérante kept an obstinate silence.

-Come to think of it… you haven´t still admitted you like those cold languid purple eyes…

-You are truly vexing my friend, - his companion said after a few seconds, removing his clothes, moonlight reflecting his hard abdomen muscles, -But I won´t, we had an interesting conversation and that is all.

-C´mon Louis… shall I come up with a song for her? – he taunted once more, lying on the bed, composing music was one of his hobbies as it had actually introduced him to ballet.

-Her eyes are blue.

-Excuse me?

-I said her eyes are blue, - he repeated while he sat on his bed to remove his shoes and underclothes. –Make sure you get that right.

Beaumont smiled triumphantly, -I shall, maybe tomorrow night you can tell me the color of her hair as well.

-Chestnut.

Beaumont rolled his eyes.

-Keep denying it all you want Mérante, but you swore no oath to Connor and even if you don´t ask for it, I´ll talk him out of her.

-That´s outrageous, you´re making it look as if you were on my side.

-There are no sides here boy, I told you long ago. Nobody should go against one´s nature, Odette goes against Connor´s.

-And she goes with mine? – he retorted with a sarcastic giggle.

-She doesn´t oppose it.

-Sounds like a curse.

-Connor is a bit of a twerp, he needs a patient lady for his idle wits.

-And what do I need Beaumont? Are you nature´s own doctor to come up with people under the guise of remedies?

-I´m no such thing but I do spend a lot of time thinking and reading and looking, which gives me a bit more insight than most.

Mérante sighed and lied down on his bed, grasping the candlewick firmly between his index and thumb to extinguish its golden light. The swift hot sensation was good, like a snap into reality. He was almost afraid to sleep, for if he dreamt there was going to be icy howling, the faint smell of roses and winter snows, a wolf´s paw in a night where everything was blue and still, and blue and cold, and blue and dreamy. And blue.

A tickling sensation was born in the pit of his stomach.

-You need…- Beaumont continued, sure he was listening even if he´d left the room in darkness to pretend otherwise, -I don´t think there´s anyone you truly need Louis, you love ballet that much. But if you ever find yourself in desire for company or a woman with the brain to put words on her mouth different than fashion or butterflies and still make them sound as passionate as a lover´s embrace, then yes. I think Odette is your wolf.

Then suddenly, dreaming wasn´t so bad.

Next day he felt so heartsick and treacherous to Connor he could scarcely stand. But now his fury was on him, filling him with strength; the next moment he felt tall and mighty, almost like a lion.

"And a lion doesn´t sulk in slumber"

He breathed and he felt, the kids wanted an excursion to a nearby barrow with him and Beaumont. Mérante complied with a smile and marveled at the beauty of a winter morning in the countryside: bright scarlet frostfires and stands of lemongrass in russet and gold on either side of the road, a clear sky welcomed the waking sun, making Mérante want nothing but to lie down once more and gaze at it all.

The barrowtop wasn´t too hard to reach but the children were hungry and in a bad mood when they got there, luckily their uncle had stolen soft croissants and berry jam from the kitchen, which the kids ate enthusiastically before running downhill back to the village.

Mérante remained in silence and even during lunch, he secluded himself in deep thought. Only talking when someone addressed him and payed no mind even when Beaumont told his family out loud he sometimes got possessed by a gnome that ate his tongue.

Gabrielle and Adelaide asked their mother to go for a walk after their nap and Mérante, much to his own surprise, volunteered to take them. Not that it was too weird, after all Adelaide at least was the same age his youngest corypheés were. They went around the square with only a couple of feminine heads turning to look at him after recognizing his face.

-Is he…?

-So stylish!

-Don´t forget his looks!- he heard them giggle.

Adelaide and Gabrielle asked him to go to the lake side to see if Odette was around; but it was too early in the day for her to be ice skating and the flowershop was still open, yet Gabrielle wanted to make sure the ballerina dined with the family. Mérante let the little girls go ahead and enter the shop as he, for the sake of prudence, stayed outside and admired the flowers displayed in huge claypots on stony steps outside the closed door.

The girls left the establishment in a bliss with a bunch of pink lilies each.

-She said she´d come!

And much to his regret, when coming back to the bakery, he found himself looking at the clock on the wall.

The snow fell on the rooftops the moment the ballerina closed the bakery door behind her, because of the cold her skin was pale and her lips were red; the grace in her movements prevented him from looking at the soup in his bowl and the cadence in her husky voice kept him from listening to Beaumont, sitting to his left.

-Monsieur Mérante- he said sarcatiscally, - if you keep distracting yourself like that you´ll pour the soup all over the table. Imagine how entertaining that´d be!- he added while pushing his old student´s elbow to make him loose his balance on the spoon.

-Huh? - Louis replied, but recovered quickly enough to avoid making a fool of himself.

Beaumont tried to hide his disappointment and murmured:

-Maybe tomorrow you should sit next to her, at least you could pretend to be interested in something different than her face. I thought this was dangerous for friendship.

-There is no sin in becoming friends with her.

-I wasn´t talking about friendship.

Mérante didn´t reply.

After dinner, Beaumont sat with the children while his brother and sister-in-law discussed the increase of the flour and fruit´s price. Louis was thinking again about an excuse to approach the ballerina; but she came on her own.

-Good evening sir, would you like to play a bit of chess?

He hadn´t noticed the wooden box she carried next to her hip.

-Sure mademoiselle. But I fear…

-Those who fear of losing have already lost- she interrupted while arranging two chairs and the small stool she sat on the night before.

-Would you like the black or white pieces?

-I don´t mind- he said. She picked the black ones.

-Gabrielle told me you climbed Mont Marine this morning- she voiced, just for small talk.

-It was hardly a climb, more like a walk to the top.

-Still, it made them sweat.

-I guess it did. The landscape was really beautiful.

-I used to hate it

He paused his white rook in midair to look at those eyes again.

-Is that so?

She seemed to think about it and mumbled in a soft voice:

-When I became a hungry orphan, winter was my sworn enemy. I often thought snowfall laughed at me, at my cold feet and my empty stomach. When morning came and painted everything in gold, I remembered the times I would go out to the woods with my parents and gaze at the sky. Winter just made everything harder.

She paused and took his pawn with her black knight.

-Which is why I´m now grateful to it.

-How did you end up in the flowershop? - it was an extremely personal question, he realized as soon as he spoke. But Odette shrugged and replied in the same tone

-My house was made of gray stone walls, I often thought it looked like a castle and I was its princess. The back wall of the shop had also gray stones and I liked to come up with games there; that´s how I met Monsieur Hugo, he played with me and gave me blue flowers to bring back home. When it all ended he tried to look for me but I was gone.

-Where did you go?

-Nowhere.

His eyes left her face and he felt a genuine sorry. Her life, so different from his own, was the sad story he thought he´d glimpsed from behind her gaze; but to imagine it and listen to it was different and he felt out of place, as out of place as she´d be if put in the middle of a flowery meadow, with the midday sun above her when that wintery purple glance was made to look at white snows.

-When I saw the flowershop again, he´d removed the stones for bricks. He knew that wall was all I had of my imaginary castle… but upon looking at me, he said wild things belong in the wild not in a castle. And I no longer felt pity for myself.

A strange fascination was born in his mind, he felt full of life and yet very tired like if he had just performed a difficult dance on stage.

-I like chess- she commented again, realizing he was somewhere else and as expected, he came back, -They say playing chess empowers one´s memory until thoughts long forgotten return.

-I don´t know if I´d like that- he said, thinking of her words, - And I often find that what people say is only legend and rhyme.

-Many times it turns out to be true as well- she said, pushing her black queen forwards.

-I´m not denying that- he protected his king with a bishop and a rook.

She adopted a testing tone and her eyes drilled his.

-They say night´s beauties fade at dawn.

-All beauties fade mademoiselle.

-Even those who are from the city and from the field?

He couldn´t make out her riddle, he only could reply in the most sensible way

-Of course.

-How curious- she whispered, taking the rook that protected his king with her queen, -I would´ve thought the beauty in ballet never died.

-It does when the dancer leaves the stage- he replied as she threw his white queen on the pile of taken pieces, -But it remains in the memory of the ones who saw it.

-Tell me, Monsieur Mérante, - if she had asked, he was sure he´d tell her the scent and color of his most personal belongings, so full of her sweet liqueur he was, he might´ve lost the chess game on the board, the warm smoky air from the hearth reached him and brought Connor to his mind. –I thought you were a thorny self-centered teacher, then a frowning observer of life and now I don´t know what to think.

-It´s better we remain a mystery to each other mademoiselle Odette, life is full of them…Check mate.

She looked at him not sure if he referred to them or the game, gazing at the board she realized Mérante´s queen had a straight line to her king now that she´d taken his rook.

-When I was a child I stared into the stars so long I should have set the sky on fire, - he added, she was at a loss of words but Mérante sensed it wouldn´t be for long… and he felt that was the reason he felt what he felt. Odette wasn´t a young woman with whom he had to take care of the harshness in his words or how dirty the world was; she had seen it and she had lived through it long enough to tell her own tales. –I still do. But the stars are still there and the night still comes.

Both of them were riddles, they were enigmas and yet her heart was the wild one, the one full of magic and summer snows falling on icy roses as perfumed as her long chestnut locks.

She used her index to knock her king down on the board, Mérante looked at it… her queen and her rooks survived, his king and some pawns stood still on his side.

-Chess is also a mystery Monsieur, nobody knows how it might turn out and yet people still play it.

-People like to think of themselves as kings and queens, perhaps that is why.

She glanced at her queen.

-If I was no princess as a girl, I highly doubt I´m a queen now.

-You may still become one, for a king.

Odette turned her eyes towards his king.

-I don´t want a king.

-Then what do you want?

"My God…how did we get here?" he thought, a bit surprised and a bit scandalized, speaking in riddles that were clear as water for each and about inner thoughts they´ve never had truly said out loud. Her words were like a long forgotten bane as her eyes left his wits a blighted mess, and it was all too welcomed. "Too much"

-I´d like a friend- she said, almost like a plea.

And he relented, God be good, he relented for if he didn´t someone else would.

* * *

 **A/N Hi people!**

 **Once more, thank you all for reading and pretty PLEASE... let me know what you think since it really encourages me to keep it up, ;)**


	9. A black lion

**Chapter IX**

 **A black lion**

The days prior to New Year´s Eve passed in a swirl of color and chat. Odette would stay at the flowershop during the mornings, skate in the afternoons and talk and awe at night.

She soon realized her life revolved around dinner time, when she could talk to him.

Smacking herself because of it and seeing their conversations required all the inventiveness she could gather to get back at Mérante whenever he was trying to trap her in wordplay, it was like a breath away from her normal life, like the feeling of crossing under a waterfall; as days went by, Odette was in no position to deny she was attracted to the young ballet master and between conversations, chess plays and times when they would only stare at each other she could swear there was something there. Something that tasted like honey and smoke, so untouchable and yet so real she could feel it throbbing inside her as if it had the power to intoxicate her soul, her dragon and her wolf.

The black eagerness he made her feel became uncomfortable, she had no time to fall for anyone. Back in Paris, she could pull herself together, all the strength that had made her climb to the Opera had faded like summer winds… here, in her hometown she was vulnerable, the phantom from her childhood hovering over the rooftops and under her bed.

But Mérante´s mute challenges and kind regard were starting to melt her frozen armor, so carefully built over the years she had almost forgotten it was there.

The nights full of defiant talk and quiet whispers, they were like drops of water filling a crystal jar, the water was fresh and reflected all the dreams she ever had, adding a new one.

-It´s hard to fall in love, little one- someone had told her once, whether it had been Apolline or her own mother, Odette was now longer sure. Her parents were starting to be part of a bane in her heart that she tried to avoid, as if they were buried deep in the sea "Well, at least they´re buried somewhere" she thought, as the real ashes of her parents were still scattered in the charcoaled wind surrounding her old house, -It´s like falling into a dream, you can never tell truth from lie.

The phrase had always scared her, telling her love was like being drunk all the time. She had seen drunk people way too much by now and they always did stupid things.

But it scared her even more the fact that being drunk with the ballet master´s poison was not a repulsive idea, making her as stupid as any drunkman.

Everyone wants love, but they don´t want to feel vulnerable.

"Like trying to go to heaven without dying" she thought as she put on the black and blue _dirndl_ Apolline had made for her. Her reflection told her maybe the heart shaped cleavage was a bit low; and decided to place a rose there; it was a formal dinner after all. A loose bun gave softness to her face and her ever present wolf necklace had to be left on the nightstand.

The moment she entered the Beaumont´s dining room, Odette thought wearing the _dirndl_ had not been a bad idea after all judging from the admiration looks the little girls gave her and the appreciative nod Madame Beaumont regarded her with. Mérante´s face was, as usual, an enigma sent to torment her with stupid thoughts and silly dreams, his dark hair shone like the surface of a black pearl and the gentleness in his hazel gaze was coupled with an appealing sentiment she could not quite describe except it made her feel like if her dragon was humming.

The snow was falling outside when they all sat for dinner and Odette could swear little Gabrielle sat on Mérante´s chair on purpose, the wink in Monsieur Armand Beaumont eyes betrayed his oddly solemn appearance.

So, Louis Mérante sat beside her; his hand resting a mere inch away… she smacked herself inwardly, again.

-May I offer some wine mademoiselle?

He never waited for her reply and just poured the red liquid in the glass, Odette stared at it and nodded in appreciation.

-Are you enjoying your stay here Monsieur?

She said, but regretted it a minute later, they were close enough now to start better conversations, and yet she sighed in relief… drawing a line there was better for when she returned to Paris, things could easily go back the way they were.

-I thought we were past this Odette.

Her head was underwater, realizing without really thinking that things would never be as before. She looked at him intently and he smiled.

-Excuse me, I just thought there were better ways to start a chat than asking a question whose answer you already know.

Instead of blushing, Mérante saw her cheeks turning white.

-What are we past from Monsieur?

He could almost hear the lion in him purring to her battle chant, her gaze so blue it looked violet and the nerve she had to pierce directly into his head.

-Forgive me mademoiselle, perhaps I made a mistake before in believing I could give you what you asked the first time we played chess.

Odette found it remarkable he remembered and replied in a hoarse tone.

-There´s nothing to forgive, I was too hasty in my reply. My apologies.

She drank a sip of wine and remained in silence, warring against herself once more.

-During New Year´s Eve, -he said, -my family used to organize pranks on each other based on something funny that had happened during the year, at first I thought it was a normal custom until I realized nobody else did it. But..-he paused, -As soon as I asked, we stopped doing it.

-I don´t remember my family had any special New Year´s custom besides a small banquet. We never had a lot of coin to spare. Eating foie-gras for instance, was a real luxury for us.

-Feasting is just a matter of perspective- Mérante said after having some more caramelized turnips on his plate.

-Is it?

-Even crows can feast.

The vision disturbed her a little bit, she remembered those birds squawking on the morning after the fire, the birthday song for her dragon.

-Yes, I think so too.

-Do you? - that wasn´t really like her, either she questioned his opinion or was openly against it.

-I mean… it wasn´t really that long ago that crows flew over these regions like clouds announcing death. Revolution took its toll everywhere, but the countryside around Paris was a dumpster for corpses. Crows even feasted on royalty back then.

Mérante didn´t need to think about all his history lessons to know she was right.

-Makes you think how much a crown is really worth, when crows can dine upon kings.

She thought a little bit on his remark before adding

-They might have eaten him, but we killed him first… I often think about what was really happening in the minds of the citizens back then that made them cut the head off their own king.

-There was nothing in their heads Odette, they were as empty as their children´s bellies.

She looked at him again.

-Sometimes I wonder what would I have done have I lived back then; if I would have remained loyal to the crown or to the people.

It was his turn to drink some wine, he had to in order to keep up with their conversations… and with her voice and with her rose scented hair.

-You once told me winter made everything harder and I thought it somehow made you wiser; it hasn´t even been a century since the Revolution and old wounds still bleed. The conflict started in spring but I wonder how long it would´ve last had it begun during the snow and the ice. You might´ve been Jacobin and Girondin on the same year; or you might not have cared at all.

-I guess we´ll never know then- She finished while placing her cutlery on the empty plate.

-But I do know.

Odette said nothing as she helped to clear the table, his dark hazel gaze haunted her with the echo of his last phrase and even after having dessert and sitting close enough to the hearth not to be frozen by the blizzard storming outside, she kept a courteous silence.

"He thinks he´s got me figured out" she realized, fuming. "He thinks I…"

Mérante approached, just as she knew he would and Odette decided to continue the intellectual exchange they had during dinner.

The young ballet master thought himself trapped by her suggestive charm, nonchalant demeanor and cold politeness added some sort of spell over his mind he could not decipher yet, and he wasn´t even sure he wanted to; for he enjoyed her distant care and the frosty magic in the way she regarded him, her witty talk and phrases loaded in silent challenge.

The shadow Odette threw over his friendship with Connor was decisively the only thing between them.

But it was an enormous shadow, and he was afraid of its pitch blackness.

-Tell me one thing then Monsieur, -she asked as soon as he sat. –If you think me capable of shifting loyalties as the seasons waste away. There´s no point in me making promises, therefore I´m capable of every kind of deceit and insincerity.

He leaned his elbows on his knees as he got closer to her face, she could see him even more carefully now that he was near: his sharp jaw curve, the length of his black lashes, his attractive face made her almost forget to listen to his voice.

And the only thing Mérante thought about was the ice in her words and the fire in her eyes, and the fact she got to choose which of those she´d give him crushed him by realizing once more he really didn´t give a damn about it as long as it was for him. And for him alone.

-And capable of equal amounts of honesty, - he added, to complement her previous speech, -We all are. Every man and woman has darkness and light in their hearts. Even those who´ve sworn to help us in our perils. The world often forgets that the ones who are able to heal are also able to kill.

-You mean doctors?

-Not only doctors- he replied looking back at her with an intent look, so intense she had to turn and gaze at the flames but thought better about it and turned again to face him.

-You´re very intense when you discuss- he said.

"You´re the fairest thing I´ve ever seen" he thought, Odette was someone out of his world, like the maiden from a faraway star one old folktale spoke about and as she dared him once more in a staring duel he remembered the first time he saw her, and he compared it with that moment, now that he knew her.

This woman, this warrior wolfqueen had been made for that ravished wilderness part in his spirit that Beaumont insisted only Odette could tame.

She was so close to him she could perceive his scent, full of all the odours she enjoyed since she was a little girl running through snowy woods. "Louis Mérante…" she pondered inside her hammering head, "It´s good for me we´re so very away from each other back in Paris, living totally different lives, for if not… this winter would´ve been much more dangerous". The tone of their conversation decreased to mundane matters and when Odette announced she meant to go home he looked genuinely disappointed.

That night, in the quiet dark of her room, she put on her starchless white tutu and the pair of blood red silken ballet pointes she´d bought after much effort in saving money for a long time, and danced her captivation for only the moon to see. The wild enrapturement she had started to feel for Mérante made her feel as powerful and mighty as a thunderstorm. "Am I in love?" she thought while pirouetting. "It´s so sudden and abrupt" and yet, she had never felt so understood before, and in no way she sensed her spirit in chains or her wolf shedding tears for its lost freedom. Odette greeted the New Year with ballet in her moves and Mérante in her thoughts. The flowy and soft white skirt caressing her thighs and calves… if she´d been a real wolf, she´d be moving her tail.

.

.

.

-You were right.

-Oh?

Beaumont sat on the couch next to his old student and offered him some wine.

-I´m always right, you´re just too slow to admit it.

-About Odette

-What about her?

-I´m falling in….

-I know that Louis, -he waved his hand- But the good question is, what will you do about it?

-I appreciate Connor, and I appreciate Odette. I won´t do anything to hurt them

-I don´t think you´ll hurt Odette by making a move; she looked quite pleased whenever you were around.

-I´ll hurt her if I do something and break it if I feel regrets.

-Excuse me, but the situation you and Odette are in is nowhere within the realms of regret. We´re getting back to Paris next week and neither of you will be able to pretend you don´t know each other anymore. The Opera is a perfect scenario; your admirers will surely be disappointed but-

-I´m not going to do anything Beaumont.

His teacher sighed.

He knew Mérante had the temperament of a lion, loyal to a fault and stubborn enough to exasperate a saint. But he also knew there were certain chances in life one could only get once, a ship one could only board in its maiden-voyage.

In the matters of the heart… love was like a trickster; waiting for people to leave their guard down.

-I loved someone once, you know?- he said out loud. His voice a quiet whisper, sadder than anything Mérante had heard before.

They kept silence for some moments and Mérante asked

-What happened to her?

-Doesn´t matter now- he rubbed his nose, -what matters is what you do now Louis. True love comes once in a lifetime

-I don´t believe in that and you know it.

-Perhaps now it´s time you do, love is like the night and the storm in the heart of the sun; it´s ancient and forever burns at the center of time. Makes you do stupid things but you´d rather die now than live forever without it.

Mérante didn´t fight back the way he always did, but remained deep in thought.

-I never wanted nor asked for this to happen.

-Nobody does- replied Beaumont as the cracking of the fire made him feel all the peace he could get out from his long broken heart.

* * *

 **A/N**

 **Hi everyone! So sorry for the delay but uni and work had been really busy and with exams approaching next week I had like tons of projects. And then, the earth decided to unleash different sorts of natural disaster around here. Most recently a 8.2 earthquake that shattered the coast in my country... So it´d be awesome if you guys could pray and send good thoughts to all the ppl still trapped under the ruins :/ it´s still really bad T.T**

 **I´ll reply in a short bit via PM to your lovely reviews for the users with an account.**

 **Just me** _It´s so cute you name yourself like that.. you´re not "just you" you´re you and it´s so levely of you to have taken the time and effort to leave a review for me. It´s amazing you like it, and I really appreciate you like how I portray them. It´s a constant worry for them to make too fluffy to be believable._

 ** _Guest (I)_** _Here´s the chapter you asked! I hope you enjoy it as much as the other chapters. So glad it fits your imagination! I know that the more a story resembles with what one has in the head, the more attaching it is. So I hope to keep counting with your valuable opinion and tell what you thought of this one ;)_

 ** _Guest (II)_** _AWWW! I literally squeaked at your review; you´re so nice! There´s so many amazing writers in here that the fact you darling, think I´m good is sooo precious. I´m really sorry that I can´t guarantee a certain date, I write at nights, sometimes a lot and sometimes a phrase only. But please bear with me, next chapter is a juicy one... I promise!_

 ** _Guest (III)_** _Here you go! Hope you sit nice and cozy to read it; and thank you to for leaving your opinion here; I really love to know what readers think so I know I´m not disappointig anyone_

 **Remember you lovely ppl to leave me a comment so I know if this is of your liking!**


	10. A bending wolfqueen

**Chapter X**

.

.

 **A bending wolfqueen**

Next week, they were gone.

Thanks be to God, they were gone; and although Odette missed their conversations, there was little time for her to be idling now. Hugo and Apoline had returned on the second week of January, both of them suffering a terrible cold they caught somewhere near the border with Prussia, and even when she offered to stay longer, Hugo insisted she had to go back to keep chasing her dreams.

They got up of bed to say farewell; tears and hugs as they saw her dangling wolf necklace and a new crystal case for a fresh blue rose.

-We bought the box in a village by the shore- Apoline said, -they use seawater to temper the glass, so the locals say it contains the essence of the ocean.

-Keep dreaming big, little one.

And Odette swallowed her longings and her whispers to show a smile that didn´t quite reached her eyes, which had the pale cyan of the sky and the sea smell in her imagination, for Odette had never seen the water of the waves washing over sand.

There was something off, she felt like crying, like if there was something that would change forever before she came back to her little hometown.

And there was some true in that, for she never came back.

.

.

.

Just going back to "Britain´s Bride" she was greeted with bad news, well… not exactly, they were bad news for her only.

Orlenna and Philippe were just like she remembered; except they now had a passport and a ticket for a ship for the New World.

-I never knew anything about this!- she exclaimed, somewhere in battle between trying to be happy for them but also being extremely sad for their departure.

-We couldn´t tell you until we were certain love- Orlenna replied, her amber eyes shining with glittering drops she tried to hold back, -It´s been something we both wanted to do since leaving Britany, have a land and an opportunity to go up in life, you know? But we don´t want to leave you alone, so we have a deal for you…

Odette refrained the thousand reproaches that were about to leave her mouth for them not telling her sooner, so she could have had time to find a new place.

-Here, there´s enough money for one more ticket…-

The color on the young ballerina´s face left all of a sudden and Phillippe thought she´d never looked so sickly, something must´ve happened back in her little village.

-Odette- he said- are you all right? Did something happen?

She turned her eyes to him and once more he and his sister marveled at the ability of her pupils to shift their shadowy undefined color to match her mood; for they knew there were times her eyes were impossibly blue, a shade as deep and rich like a sapphirine amethyst, and yet now… there was only gray, a bluish gray.

-Well… now that you ask, yes. My very old adoptive parents came back from their honeymoon with a cold that could turn to pneumonia any minute; my two best friends who happen to be my landlors are about to leave forever and I think I´ve fallen in love with a famous ex-ballet dancer in the worst moment of my career to be in love with anything other than my art; my two friends are offering me a ticket to go with them all right but there´s nothing for me in the New World and I´ll be left here, trying to fulfill a dream that if I ever manage to make into reality, there will be no one to celebrate it with!- she howled in an explosion of cold colors, red blush on white skin and rosesmell.

And she felt her dragon purring, cornering the wolf that was so alive just some days earlier, proving her once more life was as soon up and as soon down like dead and alive were the blue roses´ petals Hugo sent her instead of his presence after her ballet functions.

Philippe and Orlenna were silent for some minutes before he finally said:

-Is it Mérante? You mentioned him in one of your letters- Odette nodded, momentarily regretting having sent them letters during her holidays.

-He seems like a fine man- Orlenna whispered, remembering the one time she saw him dancing and then at the bar, his dark hazel gaze fixed on the wolfmaid.

-He is- Odette retorted –but there´s nothing I can do right now. He´s starting his teaching and I´m trying to become a prima ballerina before spring comes- her shoulders fell, as if bearing all the bad things that happened in the world just on her own

Hot boiling tears streamed down her cheeks before she could stop them, and both Philippe and Orlena remained silent.

-I´m sorry- she said, trying to recover –Too much is happening at the same time and I´m trying to cope.

The young girl headed towards her room, but before disappearing in the shadows engulfing the staircase, she looked back and said with a face that could break anyone´s heart, so much that it certainly broke theirs.

-I cannot go with you beyond France, when are you expected to leave?

Orlena couldn´t say a word, so it fell on Philippe to respond.

-Next month.

Odette nodded and shut the door of her room, somehow the bartenders felt as if she was closing a door to something else as well.

The young ballerina sat on her bed and arranged the blue roses in the vase, put on a nightgown and stared at her reflection on the mirror.

She had grown taller since autumn, her skin had a new glow and her body was definitely that of a young woman… but her eyes had a new obscurity to them and it hung over her like a shadow, a gloom she wasn´t quite sure how it´d appeared but was there nonetheless, and she wondered if it was the dragon in her mind and her dreams, breaking finally free in the reality.

Her wavy hair reeked of rosesmell and it was in that moment more than any other, that she missed her old town, the flowershop, Hugo and Apolline, now coughing their lungs out.

She thought of Mérante, of his attractive face and elegant words, contrasting so much with her situation for she knew they could never stand as equals, he was a ballet legend and a promising master while she fought to have food on her plate everyday and tried to earn herself a place on stage in the Opera House.

So that night, the wolfmaid shut the door to her heart.

.

.

.

The next weeks were spent in silence and dread, as if her whole world knew what was coming and decided to keep silent, a deep breath before a performance, the hushed stillness before the thunder.

Monsieur Kerloff recommended her for auditioning in the next Swan Lake presentation, and she assumed he wished her to postulate as the white swan, ironic life pushed her to be Odette in the play just as in reality. But when he asked for a pianist to rehearse the steps, Odette realized he wanted her to be the black swan, Odile.

-You don´t strike me as the sweet and innocent white swan, Odette- he said shrugging, -Now more than in winter, the melancholy I sense in your dance has become darker- he didn´t say it as a criticism or asking for explanations, and Odette thanked him for it, -That and your foolish refusal in starching your tutus makes you an interesting subject of study- his tone made the young ballerina feel like an animal in training, -I wonder if Vacourbeil would consider you for…-but his voice died in whispers as he snapped his fingers to indicate the pianist to start playing.

Truth was Monsieur Kerloff wanted Odette to be the next prima ballerina and somehow he felt August Vacourbeil had been biased to look in her direction by someone either very rich or very influential. But now that his young pupil had the Opera´s attention, he´d make sure it payed for it in gold and applause; for it may be Kerloff kept his nose out of his pupil´s personal life, but he noted the callosities in her hands and occasional bruises in her arms, typical in waitresses that carried a heavy weight for long periods of time. And that earned her his respect, never once she complained and always came back with perfected movements, almost like one of those persistent predators in the white forests, hunting under freezing winds and despise the odds, going back to their caves with a prey; in that light she was like a hungry beast, like a winter she-wolf. Her piercing blue eyes told a sorrowful story wherever they fixed and now the Christmas period was over, the lushly purple in them he once saw turned to a dusky gray, a gray colder than the clouds before a storm.

She was the black swan or she was no one at all.

.

.

.

Odette finished packing her belongings in the trunk and made herself ready to go serving at the new Madame LeHautt´s café, a position Orlena had gotten for her before leaving for the new continent next week.

-She´s hiring lots of people- the bartender assured her when Odette retorted serving in a fancy café was way different than at a quaint tavern, -And she has no problem with you sleeping in the rooms in the upper part of the building since other girls do it as well.

But Odette knew she had no choice other than accepting and pretend everything was fine, news of Apolline and Hugo´s health had stopped arriving and she was getting frenetic, with no money to go back and check on them, and no money left if she managed to get there and call in for a physician.

Like many other things in her life, there was nothing she could do about it, so she let it pass as she let pass hundreds of opportunities to talk with Louis Mérante, she didn´t want his compassion much less his pity and what she did want from him was useless right now if she desired to fulfill her dream first.

The day Orlena and Phillipe left for the new state of York on the other side of the ocean, she felt so out of everything she could barely breathe; her heart so full of pain it kept her dragon clawing its curved speared-like nails along the spine´s fur of the wolf, exhausted and asleep in a corner.

Looking back, she felt as if both her friends were just ghosting around the harbor, the wood of the ship´s deck crackling their silent steps as they left French ground forever.

Odette bid farewell to their shouting and the waving of their arms but strangely, no tears left her eyes even though her soul felt as lonely as ever, because she sought and found only to be let down time after time.

She believed, if only for its sake while being torn in different pieces that scattered in the wind, like the snowflakes Hugo used to show her during winters. If only… if only… if only she was able to wrap herself in that hope to shine brighter than the flames that engulfed her parents, brighter than the black scales of the dragon or the yellow eyes of the wolf, for regardless of her fight there was so much she could do for herself. Her arms stopped waving goodbyes as the ship disappeared in the skyline and the crystal box Apolline had given her when coming back from her honeymoon slipped from her pocket and dove into waters as gray as Odette´s eyes shining with biting tears.

That night she dreamt with the blue roses covering the dressing room, their thorns keeping the dragon away, but it extended its huge wings and destroyed the roof allowing the silver moonlight to come in, a lion roared outside while the raging dragon breathed fire on the room, torching the entire building as the sky turned as red as blood and the blue rose petals rained on it all.

So beautiful she would´ve wept if her tears hadn´t already dried out, and so frustratingly tragic she could´ve unleashed her wrath to set the stars ablaze herself.

But all her sadness and all her anger bled into her dance, they both got her the black swan; Monsieur Kerloff was happy and she tried to be happy as well, but thought about the night Orlenna revealed she and her brother were leaving, when Odettesaid that if she ever achieved her dream there´d be no one to be glad with. And she had been right, her fingers were just grasping such dream and she was all alone.

But even when her new job required her undivided attention since her new boss was always on the verge of hysteria, Odette´s nature was not in surrendering, she wouldn´t let anything to come in between her and the prima ballerina´s position, not even when Mérante himself came to her to congratulate her on acquiring the part.

Or so she thought as she spotted his elegant silhouette heading towards her when they finished the last rehearsal for the day.

-Madame Odette…- he said, that deep husky tone that got the wolf licking her vertebrae.

-Monsieur Mérante... –she replied.

Louis compared the sound once more with the cracking of ice, chirping of needles breaking glass and silver bells stroking in Sunday mornings.

She was still the icy lovely maid he met in winter, panting because of the effort of her recent dancing, humanizing his memories of her and sending his head in distraction with the movement of her neck when breathing that caused the wolf necklace to flicker on her chest, or how she gave off that faint smell of roses.

Both were shivering but tried their best to conceal it, much for the entertainment of Beaumont, watching them from the pit.

* * *

 **Hello again!**

 **Just finished the semester and got a new laptop, soooo sorry this took so long :(**

 **Hope I can get it done before the end of January...**

 **Seriously though, thank you all soooooo mcuh for giving this fic a chance! Love to have you all lovely people reading this and knowing you enjoy it really keeps me going.**

 **Please let me know your thought on this new chapter to see if I haven´t gotten too off topic or too... whatever hahaha, though pls remember English is not my mother tongue... so it´ll be nice if you guys could help me detect grammar issues and stuff.**

 **Now, replies to my reviewers with no accounts:**

 **Guest I** Here you go my love! :) Hope you enjoy it

 **Hermione Artemis** I have every intention of doing it XD. Too bad my everyday life doesn´t agree as much, but as slow as i can be, I hope you still want to read this fic, thank you for your kind words ;)

 **Grand Java** Thank you lovely! I seriously expect to have your feedback in this new chapter ;)

 **Gran Java 2** I know, I love both Odette and Mérante soooo much, they´re like MADE for each other, and I really wish this story and my writing to convey that.

 **Guest 2** Indeed it was a long time, fortunately we´re all still here. So I hope you still follow this and are able to tell me what you think XD. Love you!

 **Thank you so much for the support and beautiful follow/favorite clicks, you´re the best and what makes me want to continue the work.**

 **Pls R &R!**

 **Lots of love**


	11. A lion s heart

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.

 **Chapter XI**

 **.**

 **A lion´s heart**

 **.**

Beaumont saw them from the distance, and thought with an inner laugh they were the embodiment from an old folktale about a maiden that came down on earth from a faraway star and a king with no queen, one had only to spice things up to imagine the rest of the story, a beautiful reminder of a bygone age, one where love seemed to feed everything.

He thought that was precisely what those two needed, add herbs and spices and off they´d go; not so naïve to live only of love and stories… but Mérante had a place of his own and enough coin to spare inviting a girl in occasional dates.

And even then, Beaumont realized Mérante saved quite a bit of money in this department, for years different ballerinas and academy students or young musician girls pursued Louis, if it was because of his lastname or his payroll, there was no way of knowing.

But the young dancer with the smell of roses had been the one his old pupil´s choose, the one his police friend had seen first and the one he could not have that easily, given the cold magic she regarded everyone with. Maybe that´s what made her attractive, or maybe it was just her eyes and her scent; after "Britain´s Bride" had closed with no explanation, Meranté had searched for her relentlessly, but the young woman had a talent to disappear and now that she´d gotten the part for the black swan, it was really the only moment anyone had to talk to her, he´d said so to Louis and sooner rather than later, the young man left him chatting with his back turned on him while Louis himself headed towards the stage where Tchaikovsky´s music died as slowly as the white swan in the play.

Beaumont shrugged and went towards the exit, if Meranté needed time with the wild ice princess, he´d give it.

.

.

.

-Have you had luch yet?

Odette hated lying, but saying the truth would probably mean he´ll ask her out, and that was the last thing she wanted or needed right now, so she avoided the question altogether

-Haven´t seen you in a while Monsieur, I´m glad we could meet- she said while removing her red silken pointes and walking towards the exit hallway shoeless, her feet barely taping above a whisper contrasting with Mérante´s heels clacking on the wood.

-So am I mademoiselle, but don´t think I have not realized you´re not answering my question, which means either you have not had lunch or you do not want to eat with me. Which one is it Odette?

It was the first time he called her by her name and the sound of it from his lips left her dumbfounded, like a lighting had just stroke her, but managed to contain a bit and replied with her usual coldness

-The truth lies in both reasons sir, though you are right I have not had a meal today yet, I have no intention of going to a fine-lunching place by the river, much less I wish you to pay for my share and if you´re thinking-

-Excuse me Odette, I thought I told you back in your town my offer was being your friend, and as of that night, you accepted. Has Your Highness changed her mind?

Something within Odette was triggered when she heard him call her like that, she removed her hairnet and as her long chocolate waves embraced her face like a slow waterfall, she replied with that tone Mérante had learned to like and to dread at the same time.

-I did accept your offer- was her biting remark, making it sound like an insult, -Never again call me Your Highness, I told you that same night I was no queen.- her voice a silver whip that cracked ice.

Louis walked in silence with her to the changing room, Odette turned and simply said:

-5 minutes- before locking the door behind her.

He smiled on the inside and remained calmed and composed on the outside, the girls from the choir and stage looking at him with ill placed interest.

It was then when Pierre Noirblanc, the Opera´s costume manager came with three large packages.

-These are for mademoiselle Odette, as well as this- he gave him an envelope not even looking at his face, probably assuming he was the manservant of the ballerina… normal considering most dancers with rooms on that corridor had one.- And this-He indicated pointing at two young men that were carrying among the two the hugest bouquet of roses Mérante had ever seen, blue roses… so big his extended palm couldn´t cover one and so dark in their color they looked like the bottom of the ocean near their center, where the smaller petals were clustered.

Mérante let Pierre leave the boxes on the floor, he took the letter and knocked at Odette´s door

-I hate when people hurry me up.

-Two men will have hernias if you don´t open right now

That made her rush, and Mérante couldn´t help but an inner smile when her slender form revealed how much had she hurried to open the changing room. But before she could protest, the men with the roses carried them to the inside, almost crushing her under their feet.

-What the…?

The bouquets were left on each side of the boudoir, perfuming the room and, to Mérante´s eyes, enriching the room in a very Odette-like way.

He gave her the card and resisted the urge to close her mouth to change her dumbfounded expression, she opened the envelope and read it, taking his breath away, the reason being simply because her face softened into one that broke his heart, he´d never seen that sweet and melancholic gesture imprinted on her face, on a face where her eyes should´ve been blue and yet, they became a shady kind of gray.

Mérante carried the boxes and left them on a table next to the huge mirror in the back of the room followed closely by Odette. He knew from experience Noirblanc was in charge of giving out the costumes for the dancers in order to test their measures and for them to leave comments on how they felt the fabric and the tightness of the attires.

-You lied to me.

He hummed affirmatively but distractedly as he opened one of the boxes.

-You could ha- her voice stoped as he grabbed the dress and displayed it for her to admire, it was a black custom, black feathers were put all over the skirt and on the heart shaped cleavage, following her request they hadn´t been starched and flowed beautifully towards the floor like morning mist; black satin covered the bodice, when she touched it was as soft as the petals of the roses and the sunlight gave dark multicolored reflection to the different layers of feathers.

The other box had a silver jeweled diadem sprinkled with small pieces of handcut crystals that shone like raindrops and the last box had her shoes, black silken pointes.

She tried on the diadem without thinking twice she was being observed by Mérante, she looked at herself at the mirror.

Louis hadn´t moved a muscle, admiring her from afar as if she were a shooting star crossing his dark night sky, the tiara on her chestnut hair gave her an elegant yet austere look. Not swashing but sober and recollected; discreet and subtle.

He cleared his throat, and she finally came from wherever she was, looking as if she had forgotten he was there.

-I´ll put the dress on later

He said nothing

-I can´t have lunch with you

Again he remained silent, respecting her determination to draw a line, maybe it was wiser this way and the sudden certainty of it struck him like lighting; Mérante was sure Odette wasn´t indifferent to him, but they were far too young to bring out any serious conclusion of it. Perhaps it was better to wait a bit.

And yet, he was afraid

Afraid she would leave as suddenly as she had appeared, the first time he saw her, she was dressed in heavy blue velvet, all ice and snow. He worried the last time he´d set eyes upon her, she´d wear nothing but that silver beam of light with the power to melt and freeze his heart in a second, leaving him all alone in the darkness once she´d disappeared

-I must leave you Monsieur- she muttered and yet, she stood still in front of the mirror, then quietly she grasped a blue rose between her slenderly delicate long fingers.

No small was his surprise when he realized the tears that started to fell from her gray eyes, he startled as Odette gave an angry sigh.

-I´m truly pitiable, aren´t I?

Mérante knew not what to say, not once had he been alongside a crying woman, much less a woman whom he earnestly cared about, he stepped forward but she hugged the roses, her back turned to him, leaving Louis to only guess her expression, her face buried among the blue petals that received her tears as if they were a sad winter rain.

She never had been so close and so far away from him.

He could have replied he didn´t find her worthy of pity, but that wouldn´t do. Odette hated vulgar expressions and denying negative statements a person says about themselves was the perfect example of it.

In fact, Odette was worthy of no small degree of feelings for him, he searched his emotions and said, a knot tied in his chest.

-I find you many things Odette, but not pitiable.

But she seemed no to have listened and carried on:

-Do you know the loneliest thing in the world?

He had a pretty good idea, how many times had he stared at the roof in his parents´ house feeling a stranger in his own family? But allowed her to continue

-Monsieur Mérante- her voice cracked, but not like the ice he remembered, she was too upset to care about manners, -My world is shattering, falling to pieces around me, and all I can do is stare blankly, not knowing what I did wrong- he only knew she was talking to him because she had uttered his name, for she was looking at her reflection, Mérante dared not to move, for fear of breaking the sweet spell of intimacy she had conjured around him, he was sure she had never bared her soul like this to anyone, and he was ready to do anything to soothe her, even just to give her a good memory in the middle of all the misery she was in, which by the look of it, it was great and huge and black, like a terrifying dragon.

-The way sadness works is one of the strangest riddles in the world- he said, her face lifted up from the flowers, -Tears come from the heart and not from one´s mind- her face was red and her eyes were as blue as the Seine waters.

-I know nothing of what you´re going through Odette, there are times when one´s dreams look like broken winged butterflies, and we may sometimes go to bed hoping to fall asleep before we fall apart. But as my old teacher once told me…-he didn´t want to make her sadder, but he couldn´t lie to her, all Mérante could really was hoping that in telling her the truth, her spirit would be strong enough to own and understand it so well, she could find a remedy were none was visible.

-That´s just how life is. Illogical and sometimes painful, and more often than not, we´ll simply need to depend on those who care for us not to despair.

She gave him a look he could compare to that of a wolf after being shot by the huntsman.

-Look into the abyss Odette, what can you see?

She shook his head while she finished ruining the beautiful bouquet of blue roses

-What if I fall?

-My my- he laughed softly –But what if you could fly?

Then, after a moment´s silence, she looked at him as if about to tell him something else, but he interrupted, not stopping to think

-Is there anything I can do to ease your pain?

Her voice came like the murmur of water

-I don´t know how my foster parents are. I have received no letter from them for some weeks now; and work… work is not well.

His heart spoke before his mind.

-I´ll go to your town and see how they are.

She rose her face, the colors left her skin and again she seemed the wild maiden with bluish clouds above her.

-You would?

His heart expanded with the prospect of being of service to her, his black determination came down unto him with the same strength he always had.

-I would- he said with his mouth, "for you" he said with his eyes. –I´ll expect to be back in time for your debut nonetheless. Wouldn´t miss the new prima ballerina´s presentation for the world.

She blushed prettily but frostily, her flush was more of a stony taffy color than the simple cherried peach most women had on their cheeks.

-I thank you sir, I… sincerely do.

-Repay it by never calling me "sir" I beg you, I´m not two years older than you and it makes feel like a grey-haired gentleman with a cane.

Odette nodded and showed him a small smile as she grabbed one of the roses she hadn´t crushed with her arms or damped with her tears, lush and full of the smell she had come to own with the years.

He held it without saying a word as she left the room, but before he did the same, Mérante exchanged the rose for another in the ruined bouquet, still moist with the young woman´s tears.

Putting the flower in an inner pocket of his waistcoat, Louis gave a sigh and headed towards his place, he needed to make last minute preparations, hoping to be back in time for the Swan Lake premiere in three days time.

.

.

.

Odette lied in bed that night looking at the moon that glowed through the window, beyond her curtains.

She was left with nothing and no one; and yet Louis Mérante was a constant in her fleeting life, now even more when he offered himself to go and check in for Hugo and Apolline. The ballerina found herself thinking of his dark hazel eyes, his jetblack locks and kind gaze, the elegant curve of his jaw and his silky low voice that had managed to break her glass cage.

Her heart was in an uproar, she longed for an antidote to counteract the feelings that were starting to root in her chest, for that poison was sweet but it´d kill her all the same, she stirred on the mattress. Her white cotton nightgown revealing the soft curves of her body and the starlight painting her creamy white skin with a silver gloss.

Odette covered her eyes, there was nothing she could do now except to wait

And dance.

Dance for glory and kingdom, a kingdom where her queenship was not a cause to shed any tears but to rejoice in its artistic simplicity; she´d dance with her soul on that stage, lighted just for that night with the new gas lamps the Opera had bought from Monsieur Eiffel´s workshops and novelties market. Hang the dragon, the wolf and all her inner demons, Odette was a ballerina and if she would not prove it to the world, she would prove it to herself.

.

* * *

 **A/N**

 **One more!**

 **Thank you all for sticking with me, I hope this chapter had good reviews since it´s a transitorial chapter**

 **SPOILER ALERT! I´m just now starting the new chapter and it´s called " The wake of the dragon", I´ll let you wild guess here hahaha XD**

 **As usual I thank all the favorite/follow clicks and I write to my lovely reviewers that I can´t contact through PM**

 **Number 1 fan** _Aww! I loved your nickname hahaha, so sweet. I really appreciate the previous chapter didn´t seem too off. As I think Odette must´ve had her injury for a long time to be so bitter when Felicie met her. And some other things must happen for her and Mérante to be so distanced... PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE let me know what your thoughts are of this one, ;)_


	12. The wake of the dragon

**Chapter XII**

 **The wake of the dragon**

The streets had that sweet sleepy merriment usual in the twilight hours, the waters of the Seine were painted in orange and pinkish lavender. Connor leaned his elbows on the bridge white rail, looking down on the flowing river.

He couldn´t say he was happy, Beaumont had spoken to him earlier that day about the wolfmaid.

The ballet master told him about his obsession for her, obsession unfortunately fed by the hundreds of pamphlets handed out by little dirty boys anxious to receive a coin in exchange for news, yellowy paper brochures stuck on light posts and street walls. They all had her face drawn on them, her ethereal features hardened by those stormy eyes, cold and sad.

Yet, for all of this, Beaumont told him she was no good for him, her melancholic countenance and sharp words would damage his good spirit.

-I know you Connor- he said, -You´re a nice fellow, but waste a bit too much time trying to get people to like you. I´m not saying it´s good or bad, that´s just how it is. You don´t really like arts and dare I say, you somehow made fun of Louis for dedicating his life to dancing. Odette won´t…can´t, if I may add, be with someone who doesn´t appreciate what she does for a living. Remember what you told us when we saw her in the theater months ago?

-Not really- his voice rasp and cracky.

-You said she was like a winter sunset, and she is my boy, but then you´re like a summer morning. It can´t happen and if it does, it´ll break your heart- he said in an almost forbidding tone.

-Did she say something? - he asked raising his eyes, as green as spring grass. –I´m sorry Beaumont, but it seems weird you´d try to dissuade my interest without any…

-No, you´re right- Beaumont interrupted, rolling the far side of his mustache with his fingers. –Look…- he started, -I think Odette is falling in love with Mérante, or at least she likes him.

-What? - Connor´s eyes were beginning to get moist.

-But he won´t do a thing knowing you like her.

-He better…

-But that´s where you got it wrong… really Connor, what´s the point?

-Does Louis like her?

Beaumont kept silent but it was hardly necessary for him to say anything at all, after that the conversation died together with the sun in the horizon.

Before they reached the bridge, Beaumont asked him

-Will you come to the function?

-Can´t- he replied in a low voice. –My patrol is around the bridge.

-I see.

Beaumont put his hand on his shoulder and spoke in a fatherly tone.

-Connor, I know choosing is painful, it has always hurt and it always will. But one must strive on in the hope of finding whatever your heart is looking for, you´re young and therefore I know there´s still a wide long path for you to take, full of surprising encounters, shining maids dressed in silk with lacy fans, and…mind you, after some bad experiences it´s more than likely you´ll find her, the one you´re meant to be with.

The young policeman gave him a small smile and Beaumont took it as a good sign, he put on his top-hat and adjusted his cane, grabbing the golden handle with firmness. Tonight was the Swan Lake premiere, and he wished to see Odette in all her might.

-See you then Connor, please don´t mention anything to Louis, he wouldn´t be happy if he knew I told you this.

Connor shook his head softly, his auburn curls bouncing and Beaumont repressed an urge to mess his hair, so he smiled and turned to walk towards the Opera.

A few lantern bugs were starting to come out, their little lights flickering on and off on the river, the violet misty plume the sun had left on the sky invited him to day dream.

.

And he would´ve if the shouting hadn´t erupted in his brain like a thorned whip.

He would´ve if the darkness of the sunset hadn´t been suddenly turned alight by the fire.

A fire so bright and so high he thought the whole city would burn.

-The Opera House!

-The Opera has caught fire!

-Fire! Fire!

Connor thought the end of the world was upon him, people running towards the bridge, running in panic from a danger they had already left behind but running only for the sake of it, like a herd of deer escaping a lion.

He began to walk towards the Opera House, ironic how his obligation as a public server urged him onwards but his duty as a human being was to go backwards. Men tremble on the cusp of half remembered tales of people dying in fires, and as he got closer, the air got warmer, the smoky smell of burnt wood and lime dust reached his nostrils; and Connor couldn´t help but shake in fright as he saw how the massive building was brought to its knees by the flames.

The windows were shattered which meant there´d been an explosion…

"The ultimate monument to French Art" was how the newspaper used to call the Opera House, an Art that was now engulfed in flames hotter than any tears any art could´ve provoked on any eyes.

Its architects vowed another Revolution would come before the building fell. But blood runs truer and thicker than oaths, blood as red as the sky set ablaze by the fire. Like the old folktale of a queenless king who fought a dragon to keep his lover, a beautiful maid from a star; the dragon shattered the spears from the king´s army, its claws scratching the clouds as the sky was torn in two.

Connor stepped on the marbled lobby, the source of the explosion was from the stage according to the fireguard; and there was still people trapped behind. He walked towards the back where the air was a bit more breathable but the wooden walls looked like they´d been grabbed by a giants hand and then trampled by savage horses, burnt petals of flowers roamed about… he walked carefully among the debris, it was so hot he discarded his police coat. An open door to his side revealed him where the burnt petals came from. Two huge bouquets of what had been blue roses lied there, utterly destroyed, the flowers where either flying to the roof or its petals floating amongst the splinters.

He heard screaming and rushed to the backwall of the stage, there chaos reigned still between people running from the flames, fireguards, police and theatre attenders.

-There are some dancers on the stage!

-But the flames have already eaten it up!

Connor grabbed two little dance students and ran towards the nearest entrance, carved from the wall where the fireguards had managed to put the fire out. Once there he left the girls to the physicians gathered in an improvised tent and ran back into the Opera, he approached the stage once more, its embers red and hot like the sun in summer.

-Leave!

-Leave!- screamed so many throats that it sounded like a thousand voices

-It´s going to collapse!- someone shouted.

Connor grabbed a man that had fallen square on the ground, and dragged him towards the exit. But he didn´t manage to get there in time before the stage´s back wall fell.

The only thing he could think was throw the man with all the strength he had left before his world crumbled from the core and his life twinkled like the starlight he´d seen in the wolfmaid´s eyes, it wavered and then it stilled, turned out in the crash of the stage´s dome.

.

.

-HURRY THE BLOODY UP!- shrieked Mérante in blind rage at the driver, almost hanging from the davit.

But it was near impossible to move opposite the direction of all the other carriages running away from that red mayhem, the torch in the night the Opera House had become was a sight enough to chill up his very core, but knowing Odette was somewhere in all that fiery vortex made him nauseous.

-I´m sorry Monsieur! But this is as far as we can get, the police is blocking the way.

Louis heart fell to his stomach, as true as the devil, the gendarmerie was allowing people out but no one in.

Frustrated Mérante looked as some others tried to break through the line, undoubtedly anxious to go and look for their loved ones. Through gritted teeth, the young ballet master turned to the driver of his rented carriage and shouted above all the confusion.

-I´ll need one of your horses.

-But Monsieur…

Louis Mérante waited for no response and threw his gold handwatch and his purse to his hands as he untied one of the horses to mount it, he ruffled the reins and sent the scared animal rearing up to the front, right into the policemen perimeter.

The sinking sensation in his gut intensified as he heard the whispering tremor of explosions and felt the earth quivering. Terrified to look in the way of the Opera, he strived on.

His soul was shouting for the black swan´s ballerina, seeing nothing but her crying face when she´d asked him to go to her hometown to check on her old foster parents and he couldn´t say he brought good news; their sickness combined with old age had proven fatal. They were still alive but barely, the flowershop was no more and they were being taken care of by neighbors and friends.

Mérante had no idea how in God´s name was he going to break her the news before it broke her heart; the moon blazed against the fire, as if challenging it to glow brighter, its silver light painted in red, a red moonlight was a bad omen in old times… and now Mérante just thought it made everything look like it was covered in blood.

The Opera was closer now, shouting and crying could be heard now and thick gray smoke coated the streets like the breath of death, reeking of burnt timber and the acid rock leaks when it shimmered white hot.

He saw a little kid knelt next to his mother, crying with his face covered in black smudges. He saw an old lady with a dress that had once been velvety red. He saw a teary young man between his lover and his mother, struggling which needed physician tending the most. He saw Paris sinking underneath that tragedy, like a weeping princess whose crown has been stolen under a nightmare moon.

The impressive building was a gigantic lantern, the hatching place of a bloody new French tragedy, the birth of a monster, a fire monster, a dragon.

He gave his horse to the young man and carried the boy´s mother to the improvised medic´s tent. And then he looked among that sea of burnt would be corpses, hoping and fearing at the same time to find Odette.

Frantically he started pacing amidst the bedplates and sacks. The entrance in the far side was being crossed non stop by the fireguard bringing bodies, each time making his soul shriek in anticipation.

He tried to make himself useful by helping nursemaids and physicians to move the bodies around, realizing that if we wanted to find Odette tonight, that was probably the best he could do; his last memories of her gray eyes haunting him like a ghost over the medical tent, his blood boiling when he realized she had asked him without words to promise her he´d come back.

-I promise Odette, I swear to you I´ll…- but it was past time to swear anything to her sobbing face, the blue orbs looking back at him in silent torment as if she was carrying the burning inferno of a starheart on her back.

Then, as seconds turned to minutes and minutes to hours, his mute and momentary calmness fluttered away… What if she?...No, no, no, no…

He finished helping a doctor amputate the limb of a theater assistant who had been crushed under some rocks and approached one of the fireguards, the Parisian coat of arms on his uniform indicated he held a position of power in the ranks.

-Have you evacuated everyone?

-Hmm?- He turned back to look at him, his face covered in smudges and exhaustion, -Yes sir, all the ones we could rescue have been rescued.

-Beg your pardon?- He stumbled with the words. No fireguards were venturing into the building anymore, struggling with putting the fire out.

-There´s…

-PEOPLE ARE STILL IN THERE?

-There´s nothing more we can do for them sir- he said, a sad hood clothed his sored eyes.

"I promise you, Odette" Mérante´s mind had only his silent oath in the middle of this doomed night.

-Look, if I send my men in there, we´ll only end up with more casualties. The only option now is to extinguish the fire and hope they had managed to get somewhere safe.

-What about the people who were on stage?

"I promise…"

-We believe the fire originated there sir, there´s not much else to do. Now, if you would excuse me…

"I promise…"

Mérante released a quiet scream. Can a shout be silent? He turned his head and looked into the tent once more and then to the Opera, the fuming wrath of the fire had gone out to be replaced by a rather terrifying stillness under a smoky screen, the sort of feeling a child gets when realizing he is lost in the woods.

"I promise…"

-NO!

The young ballet master ran towards the building only to be stopped by the fireguard, he could hear her cold magical voice again lamenting over her life and how it was unfolding in the worst possible way.

The truth, his memories and his dreams were mixing, all of it coming upon him in a rush of steel and shadow.

-Louis!- she called, even when she never did say his name in reality.

A storm of rose petals blew across a blood-streaked sky, as blue as the eyes of death. Stupid how now he realized the recurring dream he´d been having was about this night, a night for howling a tragedy, the way her wolf necklace howled in winter winds about her dance and her eyes.

-Sir, collect yourself if you please!

Odette called again. "I promise", he whispered, "Odette, I promise".

For years he hadn´t known what was really living like until he met her, her frozen countenance and her fiery heart. He sat there, in the corner of his life like a Harvest Day pumpkin, only taking part whenever ballet was involved. Yet the purple in her eyes had shown him a person is not only work or what it produces, it is a whole life, a life everyone knew was hard because it kills you in the end and yet, as merciless as the world was, she also taught him its magnificence.

The anguish of imagining her lifeless form under the soot and ashes; her beautiful eyes, fashioned to be in tune with her mood, closed forever; her chestnut hair covered in cinders; her winter-kissed lips dry and cold…No, no, no, no.

-Knock him out

-What?

-He´s desperate and clearly not thinking, some hours out and he´ll be himself again

Mérante felt a punch in his stomach, followed by a kick to his back and a final pressure to his nape…

In his wrecked mind, the dreams came in a rush, breaking havoc in his brain and devastating his heart.

"Promise me", she had cried, in a room of the backstage that smelled now of blood and roses.

"Promise me, Louis". The smoke had taken her strength and her voice had been faint as a whisper, but when he gave her his word, the fear had gone out of his would-be-lover´s eyes.

Mérante saw the way she had smiled then, how tightly her fingers had clutched his as she gave up her hold on life, the rose petals spilling from her palm, dead and black. After that he remembered nothing, not Connor, not Beaumont, not anyone who had been in the Opera in that cursed night, a night fit for a soaring dragon.

* * *

 **Hello everyone!**

 **Hope everyone is doing great!**

 **Hmm... I´m not sure to go through with this story really, the feedback is not that numerous anymore and it really brings down many inspiring ideas one can have.**

 **Hope you like nonetheless and depending on the follow up of this one, I´ll decide to continue it or not.**

 **Thanks a lot to the ppl who´s been keen on the story, (don´t you dare thinking I don´t appreciate it) and I hope you enjoy this chapter, which was sooooo very hard to write with so many things and emotions happening but here you go!**

 **Lots of love,**

 **PrimaScrittura**


	13. The death of the wolf

**.**

 **Chapter XIII**

 **.**

 **The** **death of the wolf**

.

Odette looked at the city through her window, she lived in the upper rooms of Madame Le Haut´s restaurant where she was no longer a wolfmaid, only one of dozens of waitresses clad in black taffeta and a white doily apron.

Madame Le Haut was a young but cruel woman, sneaky, devious and false but she could handle her. So far, the lady had failed to notice her and only threw piercing looks at her whenever she came back from her rehearsals. That day, when she´d announced she´d be dancing the black swan´s part for the Swan Lake to the other girls, she felt her vicious glance fix on her.

-I don´t care, there´s nothing she can really do except firing me- she said to herself as she finished her ballerina bun, pinning it in place.

But truth was she wasn´t so sure… disturbing tales on how Madame Régine had put her husband out of the way and have full access to the widow´s dowry filled the restaurant´s kitchen and corridors, things like the late owner of the Le Haut´s fortune had been murdered, poisoned by his wife with nightshade berries, stabbed by a hired thief in a back alley, or even that the merciful odorless arsenic had done the job. If one believed the rumors was of no consequence; murderous or not Madame Le Haut was ruthless with whomever dared to cross her.

On the debut night, she went out through the back door, where the scullery maid glanced at her with a severe look, despising her for not spending the entire day in the restaurant, but Odette shrugged and walked past.

It was not the scorn of the many that left her confused and vulnerable, but the kindness of the few, specially the kindness of the ballet master given with that dark hazel bliss and wise countenance. How was she supposed to protect herself from him?

The way he´d looked at her before he left was… it had been… she couldn´t put her finger on it, the void her mother left in her life was now more visible than ever, maybe if she´d been around, she could´ve helped Odette to put her frozen ice walls up again.

"A maid has to be mistrustful in this world, or she will not be a maid for long" she thought, as a light morning rain began to fall.

Monsieur Kerloff asked how she felt that day, if she´d slept well and practiced hard.

-I´m good sir, I thank you.

Kerloff looked at her the way a grandfather would´ve looked at his own kin. He only had a son, and he had sailed for the New World long ago, news were scarce and seldom arrived, so Kerloff had gotten used to the fact he´d never see his son again.

But weird as it was, there was something in Odette´s eyes which reminded him of his lost son, maybe the melancholy or the sadness in them turning from blue to purple to gray in an instant.

-Very well then, this is the time sheet, follow it to the letter and you should be fresh and rested for the function.

In the meantime, he would discuss those wretched gas lamps which many of the dancers had already complained about for being too bright and too hot, Vacourbeil would have to either change them or put them in a different place, Monsieur Eiffel and his novelties be damned.

He abandoned the backstage room and left Odette with two theater maids in charge of getting her ready.

The young ballerina looked at her reflection in the boudoir mirror, her chocolate waves combed in a classic ballerina bun, atop her head was the beautiful crown that glowed now in candlelight with haunting charm; her face and arms were powdered, her neck perfumed and her lips were colored dark plum to contrast the black swan´s sensuality against the white´s purity.

But the most beautiful part of her attire was the costume: black feathers cascaded down her legs, all in different lengths and non-starched as per her request so the barbules waved in the wind with mesmerizing motion. Odette thanked the maids and saw them out of the room.

"Mérante hasn´t probably come back yet" she thought with a bit of disappointment, she hoped the young man could see her debut. She tried and failed to think of a different thing whilst repeating the black swan´s choreography for the hundredth time that night. Unbeknownst to her, the theater´s costume designer Pierre Noirblanc, was just outside the room waiting for the young woman to be alone and once he was sure no one was around, he knocked on the door.

-Come in- the mere sound of her voice was enough to have his knees trembling, but he kept his countenance serious and entered the room.

She was beautiful as usual, wild and rare like a river out of control.

-Yes, Monsieur Noirbl-?

He covered her mouth with his palm.

-Listen girl, once a ballerina reaches a certain status, she has to give something in exchange, her-

Noirblanc couldn´t finish the sentence when Odette fought back, kicking his stomach with her knee. But the man managed to grab her leg and knocked her to the ground and as his hand closed around her throat, she was forced to listen to him while looking at his yellowy glazed pupils, dilated by desire and adrenaline.

-As I was saying, every ballerina must give something up in exchange of position, heck even D´Autrelle slept with one or two sponsors. This is the world you´re coming in to so stop looking at me like that girl; I have no wish for your heart, but your maidenhead will do- he said, spitting on the floor and grabbing her hips in a way Odette found completely revolting.

-It´s a good thing you sent Mérante away, else I wouldn´t have been able to find a moment and talk about business- he whispered, his voice sibilant and disgusting –See you after the function, don´t bother trying to run or hide. I know where you live, I know where you work. Either you cooperate or I´ll make sure your life as a _prima_ becomes a living nightmare.

He left the room while his last word echoed in Odette´s mind

She sat on the floor and looked at the door, its polished surface reflecting the black dress.

Her mind was blank, if it was because of anger or terror she could not have said. A bitter sensation in her gut told her she was about to throw up; so she got up and drank a cup of the wine the maids had left her to prevent stage fright, but as she lifted her face to look at her eyes in the mirror, she saw the last light in them die out, their purple extinguished leaving nothing in them but gray, gray, gray.

-I can´t escape.

She said it aloud to either make it real or make it a lie, but it was real… It always was.

Her neck, red with the markings of his grasp, was a mute reminder of his words "This is the world you´re coming in to"

Mérante had never said a thing about anything of the sort, then again Mérante was a man whose lastname was known and respected. What can a man ever know about the trials and wails of a lone woman living in the world? Much less a poor orphan girl.

-If I cannot escape, I´ll make him pay.

When she was a young sweet summer girl, she remembered longing for the cold winds of autumn. Now that she was no more than a winter rose with a dragon and an agonizing wolf, she longed for… for what?

All her life, she tried to be good and dutiful like her parents before her, but they had died anyway just as she was hours away before being abused herself.

She was a piece of ice that had been through hell, thinking about it Hugo had once told her:

-Never smile at a hearth little one, I fear you when you do that.

But in that moment, Odette remembered her childhood fire, the fire where her dragon was born… and she smiled.

A smile that was more like a grin, she grabbed then a blue rose from the bouquets and crushed it, squeezing it between her fingers. She had no idea how she was going to make Noirblanc regret this night, but he would… he fulfilled Apolline´s favorite saying to perfection.

"Men are always willing to believe two things about a woman darling. One: that she is weak, and two: that she finds him attractive"

The powerful had always preyed on the powerless, that´s how they got powerful in the first place and yet she refused to victimize herself because, for those who value survival, sentimentality is not an option.

Odette powdered her neck to cover the forming bruises, Mérante had once told her she was better off looking into the abyss of change to discover if she could fly. So, she set about to leap.

.

.

.

Kerloff muttered some of his best curse words for Vacourbeil until the director was too confronted to pretend everything was fine.

-The light is in the most becoming angle for the ballerinas, being yourself a teacher of our next prodigy, you should worry about things like this Kerloff!

-The one thing I worry about is that they´ll be in for roasting Vacourbeil! Either you move them or I will.

-Calm yourself Kerloff, you will do no such thing, I already ordered maintenance to relocate them to suit the demands you made last week.

-You better…

-I did, now you old Russian bear, go and enjoy yourself.

What they didn´t know was that Vacourbeil´s petition to move the gas lamps had fallen on deaf ears, the men responsible forgot to do it and their negligence costed dear to the whole city.

.

.

.

Odette danced as she remembered she should, her fear and anxiety made her moves more passionate, her anger for being a woman that couldn´t overpower a man gave them a graceful bestiality and her longing for Mérante´s company elevated her dance to another world.

Her audience could not keep their eyes off her figure nor bring themselves to clap after her first performance out of fear of evaporating the malevolent seducing magic she casted. She had just conquered the _prima ballerina_ crown for herself, she was sure… but still, she could see Noirblanc´s silhouette from the corner of her eye.

She pirouetted and turned; the fascination had captured the hearts of the public and the magnificence of the music filled her core until it made her imagine Mérante was dancing with her.

In that moment, he was more real to her than the wooden boards of the stage, she could recall his every feature, the color of his eyes and the shape of his nose, how his voice had that heart pulling yearning when he said her name and how his gaze had told her how much she meant for him before he left. How could he have-? He had taken her heart out of her grasp when she had encased it in icy crystal, he had given her a loving queenship over his heart when she had tossed it aside, like that old folktale of a lost starmaiden who had fallen on earth when there were still dragons flying in the skies and mermaids swimming in the rivers.

She saw the ladies of the audience looking at her with moonlight in their eyes and spring promises in their lips.

"They are children" Odette thought "They all are silly little girls pretending to be women already. They´ve never seen what the world can do, they know nothing" Their dreams were like glossy silver painting in watercolor, shiny and clear; full of songs and stories just like hers had been before fire had burned her parents to ash and a lusty man turned her only aim into ingenuity. Looking at the girls again, Odette pitied them. Odette envied them.

The wolf snarled at the dragon trying to break free of its grasp but the gigantic beast surrounded it with its wings, loving and hating at the same time.

Odette saw herself thrown into a fight where either result was equally disastrous. To the people in the audience, she was another dancer, soon to be _prima_ but just another well accomplished ballerina; to Noirblanc, a piece of meat reserved for his pleasure, and to herself… she was…she was…

"I am a wolf"

The tiger and the lion may be more powerful, but the wolf does not perform in a circus.

"I won´t yield to him. Not now, not ever"

When the _intermezzo_ finished she made sure to walk past Noirblanc, busy pretending to adjust the ballerina´s costumes.

-I will not let you do it- she announced in front of everyone, the coryphées, the theater attendants, the instructors and some musicians at the back of the stage, -Even if you submit me, the shame will be yours to carry not mine; if you ever come too close to me I´ll make sure you regret it.

Everyone stared at Noirblanc whose face became pale and then red.

-I have no idea what mademoiselle is talking about.

-Strange, you seemed to know extremely well earlier when you snuck up on me.

-Mademoiselle, I assure you I-

-I have warned you, that´s what I came here for.

The young ballerina walked away and he was left to deal with the scandalized looks of the theater folk.

"We´ll see who regrets this first, girl" he babbled.

When the ballerina went on stage that night, his mind was full of anticipation but now it was full of hate. In fact, Noirblanc felt like Odette owed him for exposing him like that, blind as he was by rage he could not think in the long term. He only saw her, dancing in the stage light and imagined how he could assault her on her way home; but something in the way she had looked at him during the argument had reached his brain, it was cold and hard like the stab of a steel blade and as such, he wondered if she hid some sort of dagger beneath her skirts for protection; hot liquid wrath slid through his back making him clench his hands into fists.

Noirblanc would make her pay for the humiliation, she´d pay for it dearly and as he studied the wooden structure of the stage, he smiled knowingly… men would believe anything from a knowing smile if you let them, she´d pay for it in fire and sorrow.

Slowly, he descended the stairs under the stage, people coming in and out during functions was normal and nobody thought ill of him because no one in there saw the revealing exchange between him and the ballerina dancing on top of them. The tubes and installation of the gas lights was new and the staff made sure everyone knew how dangerous it was to manipulate the valves with no previous authorization. The calcium oxide could flow out too quickly for the glass bulb to handle it, causing the flame inside to outburst and blow up… which was exactly what Noirblanc expected.

"A bit of roasting will warm up your temper girl" he thought as he used both hands to turn the middle valves completely to the right.

Small unforeseen hassle was that the scene on stage was being performed in the midst of a forest, there were dozens of ballerinas by the time Noirblanc came next to the valves and blind to anything that was not revenge, he failed to realize most of the theater props were made of wood, bone dry and perfect for flames to spread.

As unforeseeable as it could be for everyone on top, both glass bulbs exploded and the amount of gas flowing blew off the rest, tongues of fire were sent licking at the trees and the wood of the fantasy forest; the starched feathers in the coryphées dresses became magnets for the heat and soon they were set ablaze as well. Some tore off their costume exposing skin and knickers for the world to see, not that the world cared.

The walls cracked as the fire intensified since the gas, its source, kept flowing freely. The people in the audience covered their mouth and fled the flames and the smoke. Winter outside welcomed in its white cold arms those who escaped and its snow became a distant memory for those who were slowly realizing they were trapped inside, for the calefaction system in the building had been modernized as well to work on a mixture of hydrogen and the same calcium oxide of the lamps, a highly flammable substance coupled with an enclosing fire advancing a bit too quickly made it impossible for the Opera House to be evacuated in time.

In the back, swarms of people ran away from the main stage, their powerful stumps damaged the floor causing oxygen to leak into the broken pipelines… thirty seconds and the whole damned thing would blast off.

When she saw the flames, Odette could do little but freeze, her childhood ghost clasped her head as the dragon grinned. She no longer had to go and avoid hell, it was already there.

She had known long ago that fire would forever be stamped in her memory, hot and yellow and red and as destroying as a beast out of control, it was little but a cruel jest of fate to trap her in flames where she felt safest, the one place in the world she was most vulnerable and where she had felt the horrors from her girlhood fly away only to be brought back in all force, as brute as if someone had just smashed her skull with a rock.

Someone struck her.

-Odette!- said a terrified girl, Odette recognized her as the girl that played the white swan, her skin was hot and her hair was half gone, -We have to get out of here!

The wolf in Odette´s mind howled, the dragon walking around it in circles fluttering its bat like wings in slow cadency, so much so it looked lazy.

A quiet hissing sounded in the underside of the wooden boards.

-It´s the gas!

-Run! Run!

A fireguard grabbed her from the waist and threw her against the back wall just in time before the floor of the stage came crashing down, the air was already so thick and hot her lungs started to feel too big for her chest, there was a gnawing sensation in her right leg but as she went through the wooden wall, it was replaced by a sense of being stabbed.

-On your feet woman! Get out of here!- said someone.

She tried to stand the way a dying wolf would, but the pain in her side became so sharp it sent her back to the floor; a hot wet substance was forming a pool around her and Odette looked at it absent mindedly.

It was blood.

She opened her mouth and then closed it, so this was it. She glanced at her body for the first time since the fire had started and was able to evaluate the damages, she studied her injuries being anything but afraid because truth be told she had never been scared of death; she´d fought it many times in her life and came to defeat winter itself, so much and so hard she came to own it, a "snow maid" some called her along with other things. Her one true fear was to be alone and that fear also died when she truly was left alone after Orlenna and Philippe, Hugo and Apolline and even Mérante had to leave.

The pain in her leg was because her long costume had caught fire at some point and had fused the feathers and her tights into her flesh; the pain in her side came not from a splinter, but more like a sharp chunk of wood had pierced it.

"Must have been when I went through the wall" she thought as calmly as if she had been reading the news, yet her wolf still found the strength to show its teeth to the dragon. Odette grabbed her skirt and the upper part of her tights and tore them off her, she looked up and screamed as she had never screamed before, the effort causing the wood chunk to penetrate in her side even further, after that she laid there and closed her eyes, trying to rest before attempting to get up again. A burnt smell of plants reached her, so Odette opened her lids once more; blue rose petals flew all around her, raising up against the moon.

"Wait… the moon?"

There was a crack on the dome.

-It´s going to collapse!

-Run!

She examined where she was and realized she´d never make it.

She´d die there, if it was because of the dome crushing her body or her body losing too much blood, she´d never know and it seemed stupid to ask herself for the cause of death when she´d be dead anyway.

But, when she awoke to the notion of what she´d done to herself by tearing off the cloth from her leg, she cared no longer if she died… In fact, she preferred it.

Because she´ll never would be able to dance again.

And it was in that moment when all her hopes faded, all her dreams died and the whole thing overthrew her. In that moment the dragon flung itself against the wolf and held it by its spine, lashing its monstrous head from one side to the other so hard Odette knew the wolf was dead. After that, the dragon threw the shaggy corpse to the side as it opened its huge wings, roaring to the winter moon… Odette closed her eyes as the dragon´s bellows from her imagination melted with the breaking of the dome above her; when the gravel started to fall on her, the fire beast took flight and abandoned her only with the lifeless form of the wolf.

She relaxed when she felt the cold of death approaching her and she was curiously at peace. In the end, the dragon and the wolf had also left her.

* * *

 **Hi there!**

 **This chapter is speacially dedicated to YOU.**

 **Yes, to you who made it possible through your reviews, your F &F click, to you who read it from beginning to end and still had hopes for me to retake it. You gouys know how important it is for a fanfiction writer to receive reviews because they´re the payment to the love and work we put into this.**

 **So, to all of you. A big kiss and a big thank you!**

 **Lots of love,**

 **PrimaScrittura**

 **These are my replies to the reviewers with no accounts ;)**

 **Jou** I am having a great week thank you haha. I hope you like this one as well

 **Guest** I am very happy to give you this, I want you to know you were one of the reasons this new chapter is here; I truly wish all the best and I hope you can continue giving me your opinion in this new chapter of my favorite cgi couple!

 **ALoyalReader** It is my pleasure to present you with this. The faith you gave me to continue where most important, pls never forget that ;)

 **Stellar Lights** Thank you haha, probs are it was a mistake coz I was really thinking hard on the converstaion between them to put attention to the other things. I´ll correct it later. It´s a headcanon that I can confirm is a canon hahahaha, I´m so glad it´s something the people reading the story can see and it´s not my imagination, but yesssss Odette is ice and snow because of the fire in her childhood traumatized her. I´m fine with the correcting thing, but I tried it twice before (with different followers) and it din´t really work out because of time diffrences and because we don´t do this for a living so it´s natural the follow up is not that great, and I´d really like that if you plan to copypaste my story somewhere, you´d just let me know and quote my name as an author of the fic. And anyway, I´d like you to still give me your opinion on this one as well ;)

 **Lots, lots of love to everyone!**


	14. When a lion loves a wolf

**.**

 **Chapter XIV**

 **.**

 **When a lion loves a wolf**

.

Mérante sat on the chair and looked at him with a questioning look.

-How was it? - he asked the young ballet master.

-Sad and cold, all memorials are.

-Were there people we know?

-All the ones that aren´t in here with you, yes.

They remained in silence for a bit before Beaumont enquired in such a low voice he thought Mérante hadn´t heard him.

-Have you found her yet?

Louis´ features tightened as he adopted a distant air and looked at the street through the hospital window, the bell towers from Notre Dame were close by and the Hôtel-Dieu, the oldest hospital in the city, was just one of the many healthcare centers that took in the injured and sick after the fire.

-So no, eh?

Beaumont studied his old pupil as if he was looking at him for the very first time, he had dark circles under his eyes and somehow, his otherwise handsome face had become harder and more serious making him appear like an adult trapped in the body of a young man.

Mérante had told him everything he could remember from that night, from his return to the city after leaving Odette´s town, all the way up to the moment the fireguards had put him down to prevent his bursting in the Opera House. Louis said he awoke late on the next day being discharged by the physicians almost immediately; after that he had devoted himself in finding everyone he knew. He didn´t say it explicitly, but Beaumont knew Mérante had encountered him by accident while looking for the black swan´s ballerina.

He was unconscious of course, and it took days for him to wake. Even if both were worried for Odette, Beaumont had to recognize Louis never left him until making sure he was out of danger´s way.

After that, all that was left was pain and heartbreak but… the hardest hit was to hear of Connor´s death.

If it had been difficult enough for him to keep his composure after reading his name in the newspaper´s lists, he couldn´t imagine how Mérante was feeling.

Their friend´s name was just there, printed on paper together with so many others, insensitively and seemingly so far away Beaumont couldn´t speak for a whole minute. But Louis… Louis´ kind of sadness was drowning him, his tears could not even drop and the feelings left him. Like the world had just ended. He couldn´t cry nor see nor hear, he just stayed there and for a second, his heart died.

But then he remembered he hadn´t really searched for any Odettes in the list.

-Is… Is Odette in the list? – he stuttered, almost choking with the words. He knew how much Mérante cared for her, if he lost her too…

-No- he replied, still with his back turned on him.

Beaumont released a relieved sigh

-Where is she then?

-I don´t know

-Do you know her last name at least? Did she tell you?

-It´s Tavernier, your brother mentioned it during the winter season we spent there.

Despite how nonsensical all his certainty sounded to him, he remained in silence. The evening Beaumont woke up, he´d told his young friend the horrific scene he´d witnessed that night before a fallen beam knocked him out.

-The stage caught fire, I do not know how; she and other dancers were just beginning the sequence after the _intermezzo_. The flames swallowed the fantasy props, the velvet curtains and the ballerinas costumes… Louis, the fireguard said not a person that was on stage survived, and many bodies were burnt beyond recognition; it is likely you just didn´t identify her. – he added after finding out Mérante had gone to the morgue to look for her amongst the corpses the fireguard found on the stage platform.

-No.

-Louis…

-Listen Beaumont, I know that choreography because most of its esthetics were my idea. I admit most of the depictions I gave to Vacourbeil and Kerloff were designed so the black swan was always on the upstage center-

-But that bloody position was where the fire started!

-I know but, counting every dancer including her, there were eight people… and the fireguard found only seven bodies… along with this in the back entrance- he´d retorted while extending his palm and showing him a necklace he knew all too well since Odette carried it everywhere. It had a howling wolf pendant. –No Beaumont, she´s alive somewhere.

Ever since, Louis had dedicated his every waking moment in finding her, but to no avail. It was as is earth had engulfed her.

That morn the day had dawned with the memorial service held in the Place de la Concorde by the city councilor. Beaumont could not yet leave his sickbed but Mérante said he´d go to tell whomever went to the thing that they were both alive.

-Vacourbeil sends his regards- he could see there was more, but waited until he finished, -Kerloff died as well, right at the hospital doors… Vacourbeil said once the Opera was finished in repairs, he wanted to talk to me about the Maître Ballet position since Kerloff is no more.

Beaumont wanted to congratulate him, but it was no time to congratulate anybody.

They remained in silence for hours after that, Mérante going through notes or old news, sometimes caressing a wilted blue flower he kept in a handkerchief together with the wolf necklace, and Beaumont himself going in between awake and asleep; it was near evening when his old student said out of nowhere:

-I swore I´d come back and tell her how I felt.

Beaumont gave him a sad smile

-You sound ashamed.

-I am not ashamed of the possibility of loving her, only of the things I´ve done to hide it.

-Well, I wonder what the Pope would have to say about the sanctity of oaths sworn while being half drunk with desire for a woman, chained to her dance and with the sword of her words pressed to your chest.

-I´m not-

-And… only possibility? I think you´re utterly in love with her, and may I know what are those shameful things you´ve done?

-I lied to Connor and never had a chance to tell him I was sorry, I did not ask for her foster parents´ permission to take her out nor did I stayed true when they requested me to bring their daughter to see them as soon as possible.

-You never lied to Connor, you just never got a chance to tell him the truth- the world was miserable enough, there was no need for Mérante to embitter it further, -Why can´t you go to the village and make amends?

-It´s too late for them… I know it´s too late.

And Beaumont was quiet until he left.

The next day, Mérante came at twilight.

-Repairs are on time and it´s estimated the Opera will be functional in three months.

-What will you do in the meantime?

-I´m giving private lessons for now.

-Besides looking for her.

-Yes.

The physician approached walking down the huge bed-full hallway and warned Mérante to leave Beaumont soon so he could keep resting and recovering his strength.

-Sure, recover it enough so I have the energy to drag my arse from one chair to the other- he said trying to sound lighthearted and make him known he´d be fine even if´d never be able to walk again.

But Louis said nothing.

Knowing his lion like temper, Beaumont was almost sure Mérante was having a hard time assimilating he was fine and scarless when his friend was crippled, the other was dead and his love had vanished like morning mist in summer heat.

-Do you think they´ll sing about us? -he asked.

-What? - Mérante retorted as he sat on the chair next to the nightstand.

-I mean, not about us, but of what happened that night.

-No, this is no the Middle Ages anymore.

-You´re boring.

-I´m realistic

-I suppose so, -said Beaumont changing his mind after reminiscing the epic poems he learned in his youth, -The bards would´ve never said it was in winter, in the songs it´s always summer, every man is a knight and all maids are beautiful. In the songs, the sun is always shining.

"In the songs, they would be together" he thought

-There were songs that aren´t all that happy- Louis retorted

-Not the likes that are still remembered today.

Mérante thought for a minute and whispered while grabbing his coat.

-The was a song in the folktale of the starmaiden

-Ah yes, with the flowers on her hair –he replied, - I guess…I kind of thought it was more of a folktale than a song.

-There is a song too, I believe.

-I´ll see you tomorrow so you can sing it then.

Mérante rolled his eyes and left his bed side, Beaumont saw him walk away and prayed to God he´d find the wolfmaid, if not soon, then at least someday.

But as always, God took his time in answering for with Odette´s absence, the time of love songs in his pupil´s life ended and a time of obscurity began.

He knew very well the pain and grief of losing one´s love could burn down the world; if Odette had indeed died somewhere other than the Opera, it would transform a promising ballet master into a deity of desolation. Just like he had been once.

-I don´t care if the fire fried her wits out; I only demand to know if she´ll ever be able to work again- he heard a lady yelling at a young physician on the other side of the wide hallway they were all stuck in, it was the women´s section and while he judged the situation to be inadequate, he knew they were too many injured to worry about separating men and women.

The physician rubbed his temple in obvious discomfort.

-The healing treatment should help her to move alright, she might need a walking stick…

-Excuse me? Are you calling that "move alright"?

-Sorry to intrude Madame- intervened a second physician much older than the other, his broody face indicated he was in no mood for stupidity, -but you are disturbing the rest of the patients, visiting hours are past time, so I will be asking you to leave.

The lady grabbed her long green coat from a chair and said in a contemptuous voice before walking towards the door:

-I won´t have her back if she can´t walk.

Once she left, Beaumont saw the physicians talk between themselves and then one left as well, not before adding:

-Keep 109-B under watch, he may not pass the night Gaston-

Gaston nodded and turned towards the patient that had caused all the rampage, lying down with her head and neck all wrapped in bandages.

-Very well mademoiselle, any other discomfort? Let me see if those burns are healing properly- he heard him say.

Beaumont had no wish to see any more than he was supposed to, so he laid down fully on the bed and grabbed a book Louis had brought him, an old nursemaid came by to give him his dinner portion and wished him goodnight, which Beaumont thanked before closing his eyes.

.

The shady streets in the early hours of the morning told Mérante it was a bit early to show up at the hospital, so he wondered on the bridge to look at the sunrise, its brightness slowly coloring the river.

"If I made up with my parents, would that fill some of this void?" He looked at his reflection on the river waters, despite trying to linger in the thought of his father and mother, _her_ face kept appearing in his mind. Her big beautiful oval eyes were sad but held no reproach, her hair cascaded beyond her shoulders and in front of her chest, the temptation was such that Mérante extended his hand to touch her cheek.

"If only you had known I was in love with you" a tear escaped her eye and when it dropped on his finger, it was cold as frost. "You´d never had sent me away, and I´d never had lost you" she replied something but her voice sounded like if something was covering her lips and he could do little but to look at them in rueful wish to touch them with his own.

Odette closed her eyes and leaned into his hand, her long eyelashes were full of tears that turned to iceflakes as soon as they fell. Her body transformed into a thousand rose petals, blue as the ocean, as spring berries, as a cloudless sky and as the last winter moon. As blue as Odette could be.

-Where are you? - he heard himself say aloud.

But, since for now he had no answer, Mérante just straightened his back and headed towards the hospital.

.

Beaumont woke up to the smell of food, the nursemaid left him a simple portion to break his fast and since he had no special dietary requirements, the food was decent enough.

The physician named Gaston approached his assistant from behind and asked her to change the "special patient" bandages to check her side wound.

-Oh well, am I not your special patient Bess? I am deeply hurt- he pouted childishly.

The nursemaid laughed discretely as was her British custom.

-You are Armand, but the young lady Monsieur Gaston speaks of is his "special patient", not mine- she said cheekily.

-My, my, never thought I´d see a physician fall for his patient in here.

-Well, who wouldn´t love her? The poor girl lost her wit and her memory because of a head injury and it´s likely she´ll have trouble to walk for the rest of her life- her voice was gloomy and commiserated. -She also has a very bad injury on her side.

"Well, she´ll walk again" he thought but shook his head and continued.

-And who was the loony woman from yesterday?

-Ah… the one in the green coat?

-The very one

-She´s her employer or so she claims to be; owns a restaurant near the river- Bess answered solicitous. –Now, if you´d excuse me, Monsieur.

-Of course Bess.

Bess smiled while grabbing the bandages´ tray and crossed the hallway to the other bed, Beaumont heard her making kind questions as to how was the "special patient" feeling.

He wished he had a cup of strong Turkish coffee to go along with his toast.

-How is His Grace feeling? – came a playful voice.

Beaumont rolled his eyes while Mérante gave him the morning newspaper.

-His Grace needs to get out of this bed to buy a good cup of coffee.

Mérante smiled but did not sit.

-Do you have plans for today?

-The list in there is not up to date since yesterday- he replied while taking out a bunch of different things from his pocket which he left on the nightstand until he found a small notebook. –I´ll comb through every hospital today once more. Winter is ending and-

-And spring will make transporting easier I know; the newspaper says that night´s snowfall was a true miracle.

-Yes, although it all melted near the blasted Opera.

He barely said those words when he picked everything up and left without waiting for Beaumont to reply, but it was plain clear to him… Mérante was just permanently on edge.

In his hurry, he left an item on the nightstand. When Armand grabbed it he realized it was the wolf pendant.

He dangled it in front of his eyes and remembered how wonderful Odette´s performance had been, every movement executed to perfection, the black swan´s carnality had almost made him forget he was twenty years her senior.

With his mind in silence, his ears were listening every sound around him

-How is your side?

-The stitching make it itch a bit, but I am alright I thank you.

-Should you need anything, please just ask me or Monsieur Favager.

-Gaston?

-Yes child, him- retorted Bess amused.

-He´s very kind.

-He is, is he not?

" _Hold your bloody horses!"_ Beaumont´s focus sight changed from the pendant to the young woman in bandages because her voice was awfully familiar, because even if she was almost hairless, the beautiful features his old pupil loved were still the same; because the bluish purple in her eyes had somehow returned.

And because she was Odette.

Beaumont could not speak for almost five minutes, he just kept looking at her.

Until she noticed.

-May I help you sir? - she asked sweetly, any trace of the wolfmaid´s coldness gone.

-BESS!

There she was… Mérante´s blasting maid from a blasted faraway star, who was being blasting courted by a blasted physician.

-Yes Armand? - asked Bess amiably.

He grasped the wolf pendant so hard he cut himself.

-Has the girl there said her name?

-Hmm, I told you she can´t remember-

-I know her.

Bess inhaled a puff of air out of sheer surprise

-What?!

-Odette, her name´s Odette.

* * *

 **Hi there!**

 **I know what you´re thinking... wow! two chapters in a row? what´s going on?**

 **Truth is this and the previous chapter were originally just one chapter... but it was insanely long so I had to split it, and I kind of had to split it**

 **Anyway, I´m anxious for your reviews to tell me what you guys think!**

 **Lots, lots of love to everyone!**


	15. Maiden from a faraway star

**.**

 **Chapter XV**

 **.**

 **Maiden from a faraway star**

.

Armand Beaumont had suffered a great many deal of predicaments in his life that managed to steal his breath away; but not half of them where the punch in his gut this one was.

Odette was sitting as comfortably as a queen on her throne, rickety pillows trying too hard to be fluffy held her back in place as Bess checked her wounds.

-Next time they itch, please let us now.

Hours had passed since he realized the ballerina had been on the other side of the hallway, but they felt as if a hundred years had washed over him; Odette was Odette and yet, she wasn´t.

Her manners had none of the coldness he once saw and the tenderness her purple eyes reflected came out of a too smiling mouth.

She was a lovely girl, not a fair maid. Her blue light had gone " _She, whose icing fire had once burned so bright_ "

After the initial astonishment, came the dilemma to tell Mérante or not, should he tell him he was wasting his time searching through all the different hospitals since the girl was already there, not to mention the small inconvenience of her loss of memory?

" _A wolf that no longer howls or hunts_ " he thought while looking at her near bald head, " _A wolf with no fangs"_ her sweet smiles and gentleness was nothing like the old Odette. The one he knew or the one Louis Mérante had fallen in love with.

Mérante did not return on that day and Beaumont took advantage of it, later in the evening he summoned Bess and explained her his predicament.

-Dear Lord, Armand! - she exclaimed, touched –But, are you absolutely certain it´s her?

-Oh yes dear Bess, and my friend must not know until it´s wise for him to.

-You are a very good friend to him, I must say Armand- she remarked. –But, won´t he mind your mending?

Beaumont kept silent for a bit and then, in an almost inaudible whisper, he said:

-He won´t if he cares for her at all.

Love can sometimes be like magic, and magic always is just an illusion. Mérante might assume she was gone and get over her as quickly, which would be most desirable if she did not remember either him or the feelings she once held for the youg lion.

-Bess, would you mind if I talk to her tomorrow?

Bess seemed to think about it for a bit.

-I´m afraid I´ll have to ask Monsieur Favager

-Her physician?

She nodded.

-Would you mind to leave the fact my friend is in love with the girl? I´m afraid his decision might be biased if he likes her too.

-Don´t you worry, I also need to reserve a wheelchair and maybe some biscuits for you to break your fast- she added winking at him.

Beaumont smiled and nodded. He´d like that too, he turned his gaze towards the legs he once had… he´d like that very much.

Next morning Mérante came in so early Beaumont had not even opened his eyes. Louis smiled; he had not slept at all being stuck between taverns and drunken theater employees trying to forget the terrors from the night´s fire, asking about the black swan ballerina´s last known location, but all he heard where complains about emperor Napoleon III´s stupid coup d'état on himself to impose monarchy once more and how his mishandle on national affairs with Prussia would drag them all to war. _"Emperor Napoleon can throw himself off the tallest roof in Versailles for all I care"_

The young man left shaving tools on the nightstand as a gift and left immediately, he still gave ballet classes in his old coryphées´ homes to make a living and his morning was going to be busy, maybe he´ll visit after noon.

When Beaumont woke up, the first thing he saw was the wheeled chair next to the bed and the first thing he heard were Bess night reports to Gaston. After eating the biscuits and fried eggs, he tried to reach and sit on the chair but, like a newborn baby, he failed miserably and fell to the floor, gray and filthy.

-I never liked gray things, now I like them even less- he babbled.

-Armand! You should´ve called me!

-I thought I got it Bess, I´m sorry.

They got him up between two physicians.

-Your friend came earlier and left you these- Bess said while holding the shaving tools, -We might as well make use of them. You can read the newspaper in the meantime.

Beaumont accepted looking like a bear might not be the best way to try and make Odette remember herself, so he relented. As Bess roughly hacked at his facial hair, she kept emitting small sighs whenever Beaumont mentioned the newspaper content until at the end of his shaving, he could not help but ask

-Is everything alright dear Bess? You´ve been sighing all the while.

Bess was old enough to be his mother, her hair had the color of dry straw and her face was not as comely as any wounded would´ve liked his nursemaid to have, but her eyes sparkled with amiable charm and she had a motherly air somewhere under her triter nursemaid´s toque.

-Well Armand, is not like there´s any sort of emergency or anything, but we´re all very worried about what might happen with Prussia if His Majesty insists on trying the Prussian chancellor's patience any further.

-It might not come to anything Bess, do not fret too much.

-What if it does? War is the trade of kings…and there´s three of those in there, one´s still in the making but I fear…

-If every fool had a crown on his head, we´d all be kings Madame. I do not think people´s representatives would allow the emperor to move yonder than he is right now- he said in a tone Bess thought was more likely to convince himself than her, but said nothing and chose to change the subject.

-Mademoiselle Odette is waiting for you, we told her a man that once knew her is coming to see her. She´s very excited and I hope that whatever you tell her… well, she´s just such a jolly little woman, we´re all so taken with her it´d be a tragedy you´ll make that version of her leave.

But Beaumont said nothing, remembering the real Odette had never been "a jolly little woman" and his actual intent was forcing the colder one to come out. Bess left him next to Odette´s bed with his book and the newspaper, the nursemaid´s shift was over and she´d be back the next day.

-My partner will come at noon for you, behave Armand- she said warningly.

He wondered when had he ever misbehaved being stuck on a bed where he had problems even to use the chamber pot.

Opening his newspaper while waiting for the "jolly little woman" to wake, he read through the main columns, each one faulting their ruler differently depending on the news it was telling.

Annexation of Alsace and Lorraine to Southern Prussia. Leopold, the golden boy king to be in Spain, was in direct opposition to France´s interests. How Prussia wanted to be a Unified State.

For all he knew, it was all parrot dribble.

 _"Why do they take such an interest in smallfolk knowing this?"_ Him at the least could not give a couple figs for what the German Kaiser thought of Napoleon. _"Newspaper should have the latest price of fish written on the front page, that´d be more interesting for the cityfolk"_. Rulers of states only kept press interested in their blighted games because if the thing did indeed end in war, it was easier to explain why men had to go and die to keep an oaf´s crown on his head.

Odette slept a quiet sleep, her suspires a love song for her dreams.

To his thought, the so called emperor was little more than a whiner twat, for starters he had established the second empire, kicking the nuts of all the previous sacrifices the country had made to set up a republican government since Bonaparte. What kind of emperor betrays his people by violating its own pains? The kind of numskull that hides under the crown´s mask

Give a man a mask and he´ll show his true face, someone had said long ago. People thought France could not afford more conflict and war, but this so called emperor might still prove them wrong. Politics was a sport where loyalty was a patch, lying was a sworn oath and love was just for stories and quotes.

-Monsieur? - said a gentle voice.

Beaumont erased the sulking expression from his face and smiled emptily.

-Bonjour mademoiselle. I trust you could rest as good as anyone can rest in here.

-I did, thank you.

-Do you know who I am?

-Madame Bess said you had information on who I used to be before this… problem befell me.

He had to admit, the new Odette was way nicer than the old one. Her eyes diverted shyly, drawing her glance towards the floor or to her lap.

 _"There was no way Odette would look at anything other than the eyes whenever she talked to someone"_ it didn´t matter he could see the shape of her skull or that most of her body was covered in bandages.

-It would be wise to start with me saying I am terribly sorry for this tragedy.

-It was not of your making Monsieur, there is no need to apologize.

-Nevertheless- he said, both of their smiles fading. –Before I say anything, I must ask mademoiselle… You do not recall a thing of your past life?

She seemed to sink in herself before replying in a tone that broke his heart.

-Faces and voices haunt me at night sir, fragments of being alone in the dark… but the faces are blurry and the voices are muffled by a sound similar to the roaring of flames.

-Well, something is better than nothing

 _"Nothing isn´t better or worse than anything. Nothing is just nothing"_

-I´m sorry about your legs as well.

-I´m even sorrier mademoiselle. But knowing I have the commiseration of a pretty little thing such as yourself is a very sweet balm.

She blushed in a swirl of peach, nothing like the pale taffy she once had.

-Monsieur Favager said my hair would grow back in some months time.

-That is indeed good news.

Odette would only care if she´d ever dance again.

-What about your memories?

She remained in silence.

-I have something for you- she looked up again, the morning sunrays lighting her purple eyes up.

He gave her the necklace Mérante had left the day before, the silver dangling wolf right in the middle of her palm.

-What is this sir?

-It belongs to you, a friend of both of us gave it to me after the accident. You wore it everywhere you went; I suppose it had a special meaning for you.

-Who?

-Louis Mérante.

He waited for some kind of reaction, after all; he had had the hunch that Odette liked his old student as much as he liked her, he had seen the young woman wanting Louis to look at the moon in her eyes and listen to the songs in her hands. But Odette´s expression remained the same.

He explained who he was, how she´d met him. "Britain´s Bride" with its dancing nights and blue crystal lamps; the Irishman that had sought her favor with beer and wine, fruity and rich like the plume of smoke a candle leaves when blown off. Then about her hometown and her last name. The blue roses in the flowershop and the winter outside Hugo´s glassgardens. The frozen lake and ballerinas in the Opera House, the black swan and its night feathers.

He told her everything he´d ever known about her, even if she did not recall any of it.

By the end, it was all so silly he could´ve cried and since he could not tell her Mérante loved her, Beaumont chose to only say they used to be very close friends.

 _"I wonder if it would´ve been better to just let her go and start anew. Become someone else and let the ballerina die"_

-No good to think of roads not taken- he whispered, but Odette didn´t hear, lost as she was in her thoughts.

But then, she seemed to recall something

-I do remember a song though

-Hmm?

-Maybe it´s just a lullaby, but it´s there in my head. Comes to me sometimes at dusk or at dawn, but I don´t recall the words.

She hummed it softly and rocketed sideways, like a true "jolly little woman".

 _"Oh dear"_ The curious thing with lullabies was that everyone forgets about them, and yet everyone knows them.

 _"Well, old stories are like old friends, you have to visit them from time to time I guess"_

-The words from that song are known by anyone within this kingdom, little wolf.

It was the starmaiden´s story.

-What are the words?

-There are words indeed, but some of them make the song and some more make the story, unfortunately; I can only be of assistance with the song.

 _"And maybe, not even with that"_

Odette´s pupils showed such naïve trust, he almost choked with the first verse.

 _The king´s queen was the fairest by far_

 _Her beauty unmarred by time._

 _It was said she was a seastar,_

 _Brought to earth by a war._

 _._

 _A dragon chased after her light,_

 _But she left the sky at eventide_

 _It was said she wove moonflowers in her hair,_

 _To lead the dragon back to its lair._

 _._

 _The queenless king gazed at the maid,_

 _At night together they laid_

 _Come morning they wed,_

 _The king slayed the dragon by arrowhead_

 _The queen bore many offspring_

 _And her heart was as merry as her king_

 _But alas came the night,_

 _And the king succumbed to time´s bite._

 _._

 _The king´s queen wept and cried,_

 _She hurried back to the seaside._

 _Her foot marks the only teller_

 _Of her return to where she was once a dweller._

 _._

Beaumont looked at the little wolf, she was hazy with a sleepy bliss. Her once frosty cold countenance had a queer warmth, like the prelude of spring.

She was lovely and young, and pale, and burnt and lost.

-You seem to enjoy it.

-I do Monsieur, but it´s so very sad… Do you think it did happen?

-No I don´t mademoiselle, but all legends have some true in them.

-What is the truth in here? What can I believe when there is nothing to remember about the things I did use to believe in?

-You can believe in whatever you want, -he replied. –Look at what happened as a second chance in life Odette. Not many of us can afford to change so utterly much.

 _"I for instance no longer believe in fairytales, and surely the old you was the same. But now maybe, you can be the innocent little wolf you never were"_

And for an instant, Odette´s eyes lost their violet glow as she whispered sadly

-I believe in gold coins, steel words and men´s wits Monsieur...and I believe there once were kings and queens, we have their bodies after all.

Beaumont was about to reply when he saw the physician approaching from the corner of his eye, looking at the window he saw it was almost noon.

-Bonjour, Monsieur Beaumont.

-Monsieur Favager- he said as a greeting.

Odette blushed once more and Beaumont examined the physican. The man had seen much more winters than she, blonde hair and eyes the color of lemongrass, strong jaw and broad back; the white uniform suited him remarkably well and he looked like of those golden stags old noble families had on their crests; Mérante´s little wolf looked at him the way the maid from the star had gazed at the king in the tale.

-How are you feeling mademoiselle? Bess told me your name is actually Odette.

-It is Monsieur- she replied shyly. –Odette Tavernier.

-It is a beautiful name, I believe it means graceful swan in the old Frankish tongue- he realized Beaumont was glancing at him and added amiably, -It thank you for helping her Monsieur, we were all so very worried about her.

Beaumont laughed, but not heartily, just enough to let him know he was watching over the naïve little wolf. The kind of laugh only caution and weariness can hear.

But Gaston Favager made no realization gesture.

-I heard someone singing earlier and came to see what was it.

-Monsieur Beaumont was singing the starmaid song.

-I see, but I also came to ask Monsieur to go rest for a bit as I examine mademoiselle Odette´s injures.

-I thought that was Bess´ job- said Beaumont heading for his bed on the other side.

-It is, unfortunately she is not back yet and the other nursemaid has fallen sick.

Beaumont said nothing and managed to reach his bed unassisted for Mérante to find him pretending to be soundly asleep a couple of hours later.

-I know you are not sleeping, snap out of it.

-And here I was thinking I could become an actor next- he smiled changing to a sitting position, everything would be fine if he could keep his eyes off Odette´s bed where he saw Gaston talking with the "jolly little woman" non-stop about who knows what. –What´s the word?

-Nothing yet, but I think I´m close.

-Oh?

-I found one of the theatre attenders that was conscious when the fireguard took him outside; and he said he saw the black swan´s ballerina being taken to the tents.

-And how come he told you this? - it was unusual for theatre attendants to willingly spill the beans with no reward as guarantee.

-Well, he thought I had seen him steal the _prima´s_ jewels from the main dressing room; and had come to reclaim them, he also stole Odette´s crystal crown.

-Hmm…

-You do not look overly surprised.

 _"You have no idea"_

-Well you did say you were sure she was alive.

-I didn´t think you´d believe me.

 _"I didn´t until yesterday"_

-Mérante-, he said a bit more seriously as he looked at him; he was handsome as always and athletic as a life survivor, there was no comparison with Monsieur Favager, older and seasoned in ways Louis wasn´t. They were too different –I must tell you something, but you have to promise not to react rashly and do something stupid.

Louis face straightened as he stared at him, his dark hazel pupils fixed on him.

-I have found her.

Mérante inhaled sharply. Beaumont actually thought it was adorable… and he admired him for it. If he had fought for his own love like Louis had, with claw, teeth and a lion´s wrath, he might´ve ended up with the woman he had loved for so long.

-She´s half bald and injured but out of danger, the physician thinks she´ll need a cane for the rest of her days. But most importantly dear boy is that…- he paused to study his face intently. –She can recall nothing.

-About that night?

-Nothing at all, who she was or where she came from-, he hesitated but wanted the situation to sink in, -Nothing about you.

.

.

Hours later Beaumont still remembered Louis face, still and motionless as if there was a knife slowly sinking to his ribcage, twisting and ripping.

-She´s right across this bed. Do you wish to see her?

Mérante took a moment to answer in a faint voice.

-Yes, but not yet- he said as he left without looking back.

Beaumont had talked later to Odette about Mérante a bit more. He wanted to let her know the young man deeply cared for her and wished for her wellbeing the way a very, very close friend would. She regarded him with a dreamy smile and thanked him once more, before drifting away to sleep. Going back to his own bed, he did the same.

But later, when shadows grew long, Beaumont heard a familiar voice that called him slowly into consciousness.

-Would you care to tell it tonight?

-Are you not tired?

-Strangely enough I´m not, but then again I do nothing more than sleep and be seated in here; Monsieur Beaumont can tell you.

-Very well.

Mérante´s husky tone reached his ears, but he preferred to remain there and see their exchange; Odette was bathed by the twilight light that came in from his window, her eyes so blue their purplish blaze was mesmerizing and for a moment, if she remained quiet and still, one could remember the ice statue she used to be.

There was a bouquet of blue roses in a glass vase on her nightstand, their sweet fragrance perfumed the place. Bess was back and attended her patients a few beds on the right and better still, there was no sign of Monsieur Gaston.

.

.

The alluring voice of this young man captured her, there was something magnetic and intriguing about him; whilst she talked to him, the room seemed to disappear. His air of confidence and familiarity made her imagine puddles of gold under her bed and her small forgotten world stood still when he spoke.

"Long ago, when magic still existed in this world and dragons were feared by knights, there lived a beautiful maiden whom folk said came from a star; her long argentine hair glowed with the moonflowers she had woven in it and her blue eyes were like two sapphires with the power to enlighten the darkest night"

"The maid´s name was not to be pronounced, for it was in the language of light and song"

"Before time, the maid had fallen from the sky and landed in the sea from where her purity twinkled for a thousand years, the illumination from her hair led sailors back to their homes; woodsfolk sang songs about her beauty and mermaids learned to speak thanks to the maid"

"Until one day, an evil dragonlord saw her blue light and desired it for him alone. He left his country and flew on the ocean waters in search of the maiden´s starlight"

"The maid saw this through her dreams and escaped across the ocean until she reached a northern land called Earthsea; where the local prince had just been recently crowned and vowed to protect the beautiful woman, his name is now lost in time but the one he gave to the maid has survived: Ashæla Seastar"

"She became his lover as well as his queen and it is said he loved her so fiercely that when the dragonlord arrived, he realized he couldn´t break their union, so he fought the king´s army for a hundred years. In the end, the enemy casted a spell that caused sulfur and fire to rain from the heavens, the dragon´s claws pierced through the sky and more than half of the army was obliterated; seeing this was because of her, queen Ashæla wept so much for so long that the rivers went far beyond their channels and the tides of the sea reached the king´s fortress"

"The fire died out and the ocean waves swallowed the dragonlord and his beast, the formidable event was later called the Fire Tide. After it, queen Ashæla bore the king ten sons and seven daughters who became powerful knight kings and beautiful princesses that ruled over Earthsea for thousands of years, cementing the Seastar dynasty"

"Legend says that when her husband died, queen Ashæla asked God to turn his heart, which had always been hers, into a jewel so it could be with her forever; God granted her wish giving her a necklace with a blue diamond in it which she called "Coeur de l´Étoile", heart of the star. Long after Ashæla died, the necklace kept being part of Earthsea´s national treasure, passed on by generations to learn of a love fallen down from the stars and a sorrow that could gobble and kill a dragon"

.

* * *

 **Hello people!**

 **Yes! Another chapter, I´m actually going as fast as I can to finish it quickly or to reach the point where we all meet Félicie :3**

 **SansuTun** Here you go!, I really love the fact you gave me two reviews, don´t think I missed it ;). Thank you sooo much, I am very well btw thank you fors asking as well XD, I really do the best I can and is so rewarding to that lovely people like you appreciate it. Yeah, I know I couldnpt make them dance... but the whole point in this fic at least, is to show theirs is not a fairytale and that nothing in life goes as one wished it would. I have the whole Odette situation already planned, don´t you worry, and I also hope you can still give me your opinion. Thank you again (can´t seem to thank you enough haha) and pls pls let me know your thoughts ;)

 **Lots, lots of love to everyone!**


	16. Wolf s Heart

**Chapter XVI**

 **.**

 **Wolf´s Heart**

 **.**

-¡The catastrophe!

-The Iron Chanciller will be our doom…

-Does Napoleon wishes for war again?

-He can go to hell for all I care, he should´ve rotten together with the rest of his family!

-Well Mérante…- sighed Beaumont looking at the gathering crowd –You never told me the mood had gotten so… enjoyable as of late.

Mérante shrugged, focused as he was to move forward with his old master´s wheelchair across the square back to the hospital, difficult enough with all the cityfolk walking around to buy the evening newspaper and discuss its content, he really hadn´t paid much attention to political news.

-One can only marvel that a city that has just witnessed a tragedy is still able to whine about the arrival of a single man and say it´s the worst that has befallen us since the Revolution.

-There are plenty of bad things that have happened to France since then- Louis retorted, finally he could see the hospital in the distance.

-I agree. But we are only humans, and lowly citizens at that. Kings and princes do not fret over bread price; and one would think Parisians have more important things to worry about than that blondie prick and our ridiculous ruler.

Mérante said nothing and kept walking, fully understanding Beaumont hated to speak about war, his grandfather having served and died in the French army during Bonaparte´s Russian failed invasion. But cold hard truth was, he actually believed war times were coming, and as his master said, there was little anyone could do except for those crowned fools, and also he knew not what he´d do if such a catastrophe happened.

They reached the hospital in utter silence, Odette was sleeping and Mérante remained at her side for another half hour before departing.

Days passed until Odette´s hair started to grow back and Beaumont was finally discharged

-Will you come and visit me Monsieur? - she asked when he bid farewell. Beaumont made an effort in his wheelchair to caress her hair, barely a wisp of her old chocolate waves.

-Of course little wolf.

-And Monsieur Mérante as well?

-I am sure he will, but I thought you preferred Monsieur Favager´s attentions

Odette blushed prettily and looked at her bandages, her purple eyes betraying her sorrow.

-Monsieur Favager is very kind indeed. But… there is something in Monsieur Mérante´s voice that soothes me. Besides…- her voice dropped to a whisper as she saw the cane Bess had gotten, resting next to her nightstand, -I doubt I can allow myself to feel anything for anyone until I figure out how I´ll live my life from now on. I refuse to become a burden.

Beaumont knew how that felt, no matter how hard he tried to ignore the grotesque stumps where his legs once were.

-How are your memories?

-Blurry still- she replied curtly. Yes, they were, and they were fiery as well. Odette knew she used to be a dancer, and for some time she thought maybe it was better she didn´t remember who she was. Ballet was something she could never do again.

-And walking?

-Not without a cane Monsieur.

They were silent for a while before she said, her tone steely under a sweet crust

-Are the rumors of war true, Monsieur?

-No one knows Bismark´s intentions Odette- he retorted calmly. The old Odette could handle the truth, the new one was delicate and somewhat skittish. –But if His Majesty refuses to find middle ground with the Káiser, I think there will be no other choice. But grieve not, little wolf. Wars are tricky, but their trickery develops at a comfortable distance from pretty ladies like yourself, they won´t come knocking to your doorstep.

-Maybe, but that´s what many thought of the Opium War and Napoleon I´s battles until Paris had the tsar capitulating the emperor in the _place de la Concorde_.

Beaumont looked at her, glimpses of the Odette Louis had grown to love shone with that sentence.

-Old men should fight with sticks and stones, having the youth fight for their own conflicts is inexcusable- she continued, -by the end of it there are words you can´t stand to hear and only names of places have dignity. "Glory, Honor, Courage" become obscene- Odette looked at the window. –After all is done; old men come and take the youth´s victory and remake it to the likeness of the former world they knew. Younglings can win but know not how to keep their victory; and they´re pitifully weak against old folks, they stammer to build a new world with fire and blood and all the old do is thank kindly and make their peace. War is not to show who is right.

-Only who is left- he interrupted. –Odette, where did you hear this?

She seemed to wake from a daydream, her violet pupils dusky and vague.

-Someone said it to me once…maybe my father, I´m not sure. But what I wanted to convey sir, was that if this conflict with Prussia ends how everyone seems to expect it to end, many will leave to fight in it. War is terrible and men must become terrible to wage it, I can only hope our friends are spared from such a fate.

-You mean Mérante?

-Yes him…mainly-she admitted, -but Bess as well and Monsieur Faveger too. And-

-It is no good to worry over things yet to come little wolf, -he cut off, -It might come or it might not. And if it does we´ll concern ourselves with every task at hand without disheartenment. For now, you have to sleep and get better so you get back the life you claim you lost; that is all there is for sure.

She nodded and smiled, the melancholy lifting like a black fog her smirk scared away.

-I´ll visit as soon as I can hire a manservant to help me.

-I´ll be waiting Monsieur, please be careful.

-I will Odette.

Beaumont kissed her hand and called for Bess, who said his carriage was waiting outside; he reached the street and with the help of his loyal nursemaid and the page-boy, he was able to climb into the hansom cab. Sighing he looked back through the small window and wondered if France was really plummeting, once again, head first into bloodshed.

A light rain began to fall, the way Odette´s tears had when Louis told her of her foster parents' demise.

-I don´t remember them; but I cry for the idea of not feeling a thing.

At least this new and unknown lass was sincere.

The carriage jerked off suddenly, most likely a rock sticking out from the smooth stones on the roadway; Beaumont felt a bump swelling from his bruised skull, when he passed his hand over it; a little stinging pain went through his head, but it felt so peculiar that he kept fondling it until they reached his new residence, a good small single-floored house that posed no bonus threats to his crippled condition. No matter what Mérante, Vacourbeil or any other good natured friend said with much unwanted optimism over God knew how many masks of pity, he was crippled and he would never walk again, the rest was horseshit.

An old acquaintance recommended him an agency to try and find a couple of servants that would help him in adjusting to his new lifestyle, his friend´s letter explained how the contract law worked and the terms he was supposed to meet in order to hire these people. A new modality arrived to stay thanks to the Bonaparte´s dynasty; Beaumont could feel his annoyance puddling under his hospital bed that day, so Louis had offered to make the interviews and arrangements.

-Contract law has also made our lives easier as artists, my friend- he´d said, -we´d be entertaining rich people in the red light district otherwise.

He would´ve punched that stupid wise look off his attractive young face as if he´d just talked to a gossiping fishwife. Because the worst thing was he was right.

He had lived that way long ago, Louis didn´t know though. But the woman he´d loved for years, and loved still, had been from the red light district.

Beaumont was still a teenager, a boy as green as summer grass. And to him, the woman had been the summit of female charms, catquick and bright, ripe as wine grapes. _Had a woman so fair ever walked on earth?_. He didn´t learn her true name until some time later, but her clients called her Madame Yan.

Employees in the pillow houses said she came from a dry land, somewhere in the steppes near China. She could ride a horse as well as any man and it was often this ability that attracted the clients that would gamble on races and sports; and she liked to clothe herself with satin and silks, and headdress her night black hair with big pieces of jewelry or colorful chrysanthemum flowers.

It was not long until one night, after most clients were gone, before the break of dawn when he was dead drunk to numb the emptiness in his stomach, that he dropped his sheet music aside and confessed her he loved her. It was then she told him her real name, Ying-Yue, and said he could call her Yue. The morning light gave her amber almond eyes the lushness of a dove´s look and her cheeks were full and so inviting he gave them a chaste kiss she somehow transformed into a day spent in her bed after she told him she had wanted him as much as he had wanted her. They were in love, what could the world care?

 _"_ _The world might not have cared, but the owner of the pillow house sure did"_

A knock on the door drew him out of his memories. He was examining the items in his… sort of solar room, and didn´t realize how long had he been there.

-Come in- he said. Two persons came in, one was a pretty olive skinned girl dressed in a maid´s uniform, the other was a tall man, way older than Mérante but a bit younger than Beaumont himself, the latter having a hard time imagining his young pupil interviewing such a bulky man, the oh-so-stubborn Louis with his lion grace, black elegance and good spirit.

-Excuse us sir, we are from the agency. My name is Jean and this girl is Solaria. We´ve come to be your new help. Monsieur Mérante instructed us to introduce ourselves as soon as you arrived- said the man with an impossible high pitched voice for someone his size. The girl came from the British Indian colonies; he was sure, yet she seemed good mannered enough to be backed up by an agency.

-Yes, I´ve been expecting you. As you see, I am now prevented from the simplest movement of even using the privy on my own. So, I will be needing much of your assistance, especially since I have barely left the hospital. Now then, any doubts regarding your wages? Or your functions as my help?

Both shook their heads.

-Very well, I will be giving you your first set of instructions. Solaria, as you know, you will deal with everything regarding food and some cleaning, I hope Monsieur Mérante showed you the rooms you´ll be living in at the back?- the girl nodded and made a small curtsy, -and Jean, I´m afraid you´re stuck with me and will also help Solaria with cleaning and shopping. I hear you and your family live not far away from here?

-That´s right, sir.

-Very well, I´d hate to see you walk long distances in the night or at early morning. Besides we have the benefit that you´ll be nearby if I fall off the bed at midnight and sweet Solaria here can´t help me get on it again.

-Of course, sir.

-Excellent, now…Please Jean, get all my belongings off the other carriage which should be at the door now and put them in my room and anywhere you see fit, if I don´t like something, I´ll let you know but I trust your common sense. A blonde physician will come at dusk to check on my wounds, and I need you to please show him in. Solaria…I´m sorry my dear, but I´m quite hungry, so please make me some tea as you set the table and bring me anything substantial enough to wait till dinner. Thank you both. That´ll be all for now.

Both man and girl retreated in silence, and Beaumont felt he had been too bitter. No japes and no good humored comments had found his way out of his mouth.

"I´ll make it up later, lest they think they´ll be serving Mephistopheles" he though as he took out of his coat the book he´d been reading during the week to try and forget about the world and the war that was coming.

.

.

.

Mérante saw Odette long before she saw him, her gaze lost in space, reacting only when she heard him changing the wilted blue flowers in the vase for new fresh ones.

-If war erupts, will you leave?

He almost dropped the vase.

-I don´t know- he replied sincerely.

Her face became pale and her eyes, amplified in size by her lack of hair, were like two gray stormy pools.

-I wish I was a man.

Mérante did his best to stop himself from replying he wished no such thing

-I wish you refrain yourself from feeling pity for others and concentrate on getting better.

-I´m as better as I can get, Monsieur. The reason I´m not discharged yet is the fact they know I have nowhere to go.

Louis sat on the chair to hide a pang of pain in his face. It would be extremely inappropriate of him to offer her a place to stay, so he focused on trying to find a job suitable for her, but thus far he had met no success, except for maybe…maybe…

He gave her a sad knowing smile that she understood very well.

It was the smile of a friend who is somewhat hand tied to help, and she held no reproach to him for it. A lone woman in the world faced a tough life but apparently she had managed to live it until then, so she´d just stride on.

But for Mérante, it was the smile of a man in love who cannot yet tell his lover about his affections. Her lack of memory annulled her feelings and until she remembered a bit of the ballerina that died in the theater that night, he couldn´t tell her anything for fear of taking advantage, plus the fact this Odette was gentler, probably unable to resist him if he told her about his love and the long hours he spent looking at a phantom future by her side.

And then, there was the war.

It was coming, and there was no denying it.

-Actually, I know of a position which may interest you, it is from your old employer Madame LeHautt. I don´t pretend to be blind to her sour temper, but she´s the only willing to…

-Accept me as I am now?

Mérante nodded, there was no fooling her. Harsh as it was, he liked to think the world´s crudeness could bring the old Odette back.

-I accept it Monsieur, if a war is coming I must do what I can to prepare for it with a stable accommodation and a roof on my head.

He didn´t bother to smile, he didn´t have to. But his feelings were in his gaze, he could only hope in time, she´d accept them.

Odette grabbed the newspaper and gave it to him, her pale face had a shy smile.

Louis looked at the paragraphs, most where about politics, but at the end of the column, it said the Opera House would open its doors soon enough.

-At least there are some good news- she mumbled.

-Well, they´re still politics news, but I suppose it is good. I´ve been meaning to ask you, would you rather…Excuse me, but the first place where I sought employment for you was the Opera, but I wasn´t sure if you´d be comfortable yet with spending time next to a world…

-Where I have no part in anymore?

He just held her gray eyes in an effort to imbue in her, if not courage, some acceptance.

-I don´t remember a thing about the old ballerina you said I was Monsieur, so I´ll gladly accept anything that puts food on my plate

Was it his imagination or had she turned bitter?

-Still, I´m afraid the Opera won´t be ready for you to work there anytime soon. So, I guess you could be with Madame Regine and then try part time at the Opera.

-Thank you, I believe I shall- she replied amiably, the bitterness gone like morning fog.

They remained in silence, Odette looking at the sky through the window and Mérante reading the newspaper whilst secretly drinking in her company. For now, that was enough, no physicians were nearby and most sickbeds had no one on them anymore. The dying sun behind Notre Dame´s belltowers sang the end of the day.

-Back to the business with Prussia- she started, some minutes later.

-We have no business with them, it´s the king.

-I know, but just so it happens his current business is our business as well…when do you think it´ll be?

Louis had not been born yet when the last big war in France ended, but he remembered clearly the scars and memories it left in the country; besides of course, if history books had anything to be learnt from them it was the fact men always commit the same stupid mistakes for the same stupid reasons. The stupidest thing being they made other men bleed and die for them.

Nevertheless, it was pretty simple to guess the previous to war atmosphere in most societies and France was no different, those uncomfortable nagging sensations at the bottom of everyone´s gut, a feeling of being in constant anxiety with water weights crushing one´s head.

-Soon, it´ll be very soon

-I knew you´d say that…I just hoped. No, I can only expect now that my "soon" is longer than yours.

-Odette, if I have to leave…would you…

"Ah! There it is…" Her eyes changed, right before him, from gray to purple, hypnotizing him in such a way Odette had to ask him to continue.

-Would you remember just one thing about me?

-There is no chance I remember just one thing about you Monsieur- she hurriedly reply.

-Oh?

Her countenance became warm and inviting, unknowingly Louis left his chair and sat on the bed.

-I remember how you bring me blue flowers every day, and fold the newspaper in the sections you think I´ll find interesting. I remember your voice when you told the starmaid´s legend and I remember your face in the street pamphlets when everyone called you the Ballet Prince, I remember….

Suddenly she gripped his hand, so fiercely and desperately Mérante did not dare to breathe.

-I remember you on a wooden stage, spinning so fast I could barely see your face before it turned again, I remember having meals with you, there was a hearth and there was also snow, there were children as well.

The lavender evening light gave her skin a bluish luminescence, like the color of the sea at twilight.

-Was that a dream?

Louis couldn´t help it, he released his hand and touched the side of her face with his palm, a tear fell on his thumb, the obvious intensity of her memories ghosting in her pupils.

-No, it was not.

Her gaze focused on his face as she softly caressed his hand, her trembling fingers a heart whisper, it made him forget for an instant there were no promises between them, so much so he leaned on her.

Her rosesmell had disappeared, but for the first time since he found her again, Louis did not miss it, somehow that brought her closer, more magically wrapped around him, more intimate, less silvery and faraway, more like a woman sitting there, with him. Her hands ran upwards from his elbows and stopped on his shoulders.

-Oh my friend- she said, the seducing husky tone in her voice was the one thing that never left her, -Why is it that when my memories seem to come and drown me, yours is the first voice I hear and the color of your eyes the last I see?

Mérante could swear he felt the heat invading his core, a cup of brandy after a snowy day trip, inadvertently his hand left her cheek and went down, her throat catching his eye, her arms grabbing him so firmly he could not had let her go easily even if he had wanted to.

" _Odette_ …"

His other hand ran through her arm and gently rested at the back of her neck. They were so close they could feel each other´s warmth, so tempting to take the plunge forward their shivers were like a quiet poem in the storm of emotions.

-Because Odette, the first person ever that made me want to keep my own memories to revel in them later, was you.

Odette, the sweet little wolf felt something tightening her chest, bright and heart melting, something she thought she should remember since its sparkling volt brought tears to her eyes, tears so cold she thought they weren´t hers and yet so hot, they burned their way down her face.

Odette, the other one, the one she knew was buried somewhere, grabbed her wolf necklace and closed her eyes again, slumbering, not wanting to wake to the call of those amber hazelwood pupils.

-I think it´s possible you were my first person ever in many ways as well. My heart can´t stop hammering…

"Good God, don´t you ever tire of hammering mine?" he thought.

And then she said:

-Louis…-in a low voice, frosted in need and dusted in wanting fiery crystal, her hands knotted at his back.

Odette could hardly breathe, his every move and look sending a tremor shooting down her spine. So unfair… so unfair this man had such enticing spell over her while she herself…it was frightening he could so easily vanish into thin air, or war could take him, or…

She watched him with half opened eyes and parted lips, her hands shook. Something in her growled, and she challenged him with her eyes.

The wave of sensuality hit him in full force, Mérante cupped her chin and ran the tip of his thumb over her lower lip, the softness wracking his nerves.

-Odette…-her eyes were glazed and bright, she tangled her fingers in his jet black locks.

His hands slid downwards to pull her body up against his, and she released a quiet surprised gasp, he straightened up and lifted her, crushing her body against his.

-Please, wait for me…-

His arms engulfed her, like chains of desire, tying her soul and yet for Mérante the chains made it all the more reasonable to wait, even if it was forever ... if she couldn´t remember her old self, he could not really say he had her whole heart.

-I know you refuse to tell me many things, Monsieur Beaumont mentioned it, you are afraid.

He buried his face on the side of her neck, her collarbone touching his lips with every sigh she exhaled, accommodating his arms around her more steadily. If she were still a wild she-wolf, it was likely she would´ve bit his hands off. But this gentle spring girl was beautiful, kind and benevolent as velvety butterfly wings floating in sunny raylight.

At that moment, her candor made him love her, since there were no ice walls anymore.

It made him miss her, the black swan ballerina sleeping somewhere in that lovely head, the truth of it dripping like light drops over his veins.

His heart bled.

-I thought you loved me- she said, her voice broken as summer icicles.

-I d- he could not let her think that.

-Monsieur Mérante! It is past visiting hours, and what are you doing to our jolly little woman? - shouted Bess, the nursemaid, so loudly he swore the whole hospital had heard.

Odette sat hastily back in her place, her gown going up a bit more that what was proper and showed him her right thigh muscles, the skin white and smooth.

"Dear Lord, what is wrong with me?" he debunked himself, she was wounded, her other leg was covered in bandages, her beautiful face shrouded in sadness.

-Please Monsieur, I must ask you to leave- exclaimed Bess giving him his coat and shoving him out of the hall.

-I´ll see you tomorrow mademoiselle- he said.

But Odette didn´t reply.

As he was descending the steps leading to the street when he realized her last words to him, but he could not enter the place again.

"I´ll come first thing in the morning"

He went home with the memory of her frame crushed against his heart, her smell on his vest and cravat and the sporadic touch of her neck on his lips.

But next morning he could not go back, he could only miserably stare at the hospital structure from the distance.

Because next morning, the war of ink, words and letters was over and the Franco-Prussian war began.

* * *

 **A/N**

Don´t hate me for not letting them kiss, I just thought it´s not the time yet... T.T 

Hello my lovely readers! I know, I´m not dead haha; but I told I intend to see this story through and I mean it! Life is hectic for many reasons, I thank you for your continous support, I know I need to keep up and get it together.

I genuinly appreciate you taking the time to read and comment this story, I love when I receive reviews... and... actually if I´m being quite honest, the reviews are the ones that made me finish this chapter, so thank you soooooo much, you guys are the best and I hope we see the story of this two wonderful characters develop together ;)

 **Balmer** Thank you! It means a lot you read it and left a genuine supportive comment to carry on with the fic, love you and hope you enjoy this chapter 3

 **Helen** Aww, thank you sweetie! That´s so really kind of you to say it. Sometimes I just get overwhelmed by everything I want you guys to feel that I get scared if it´s too much. And wow...one year... you really got me there, it was so very considerate of you to remember me and...Buah! *tears up, No, but all jokes aside, thank you thank you

 **SansuTun** You´re great! I actually didn´t think you´d comment again and it surprised me to see your name in the review list hahaha! It´s always awesome to see old readers come back to see the continuation of something my crazy mind made up. You don´t know how much I thank your review and support, I know you wanted me to cover a bit more but I don´t it to be too rushed. Love you SansuTun!

 **Guest 1** Wow...that´s actually a really good one. I´ll give it a thought and give you 100% credit for it, you´ll just have to give me your name ;) thank you soooo much for the review!

 **Guest 2** I learned English in school as well! Then I lived in an English speaking country and it got better haha, but since I don´t practice it very often, I sometimes mix things up with Spanish which is my mother tongue hahaha. Hope you like this new chapter and I´d like to hear from you again, Mérante and Odette are one of my favorite ships ever ;)

 **Hey** JUST ONE THING: YOU´RE THE BOMB! _I never_ in my wildest dreams thought of being shot with soooo many reviews on Christmas Eve! I thought it was the perfect gift as a fanfiction newbie writer... I... I did not know what to say, really. I guess this chapter is for you, for every single person that hasn´t given up on this story and keeps writing reviews and keeps reading to remind me this is actually something worthy to finish. In the end, we all love Odette and Mérante. It´s awesome something as simple as a story connects so many people. PS. The webtoon idea is fantastic haha


	17. Until the wolf howls once more

**Chapter XVII**

 **.**

 **Until the wolf howls once more**

 **.**

Solaria poured the water on the kettle and left it on the stove; Jean had brought the eggs early and she thought Monsieur Beaumont would like to have some along with crispy bacon to break his fast as soon as he finished his morning ablutions. As an Indian she´d rather drink spiced tea, but she understood white people preferred coffee.

As she opened the kitchen´s back door, a warm spring breeze came through it together with a strange noise she could not identify. The girl remained at the door as she realized that the uncomfortable increasing buzz was somehow familiar to her, she´d it heard before, somewhere, a long time ago.

Solaria peeped through the back alley and saw a gray cat running towards the main street, the shadows of the strollers hiding the morning light.

And abruptly, she remembered, having grown up in a country in constant political agitation with sprouting rebellions every moon turn; the sibilation of many voices talking and screaming at the same time, a purr as dreadful as a snake hiss was carved in her memory.

Her shoes taping on the cold pavement stones was the one sound anchoring her down on the ground. Leaving the alley and coming out to the street, Solaria felt she´d faint.

A mob walked down the avenue, they yelled and the women wooed for the small war ships navigating through the Seine, wishing farewells and flapping the State´s flag.

-So it has come to this.

She knew the war between Prussia and France was somehow a given fact; but to see it starting before her very eyes had the effect of a punch. Solaria´s entire family had succumbed in India because of revolutions and civil conflicts, it was as if their destiny had come chasing after her all the way from there. Her frown turned to a scowl, unwilling to believe how women and children were capable of celebrating their men embracing certain death, cheering the situation from the river bank.

Repulsion urged her to return back to the alley and her kitchen, there she would be safe. There she wouldn´t know.

She was just finishing placing the breakfast cutlery for Monsieur Beaumont when the front door bell rang. Almost running to the door for fear of what she might encounter coming from the street on a day like that, Solaria only saw Monsieur Louis Mérante, standing in militia clothing, a bag and a bayonet at his back.

She blushed and welcomed him into the foyer.

The young man removed his soldier cap and bowed courtly, his gentleness had struck her ever since she met him.

-Bonjour Madame, excuse me but could you please tell Monsieur Beaumont I´m here to bid farewell? I´m to leave in this instant and have not an moment to lose.

Solaria blushed once again at the sight of his handsome face under those dark locks but replied hastily

-Bonjour Monsieur, I´ll let Monsieur Beaumont you are here right away.

Once she had mana

ged to bring her master to the living room, she saw them sat there and returned to the kitchen while wondering if she should place another set on the table.

Beaumont eyed Mérante critically.

-What on earth are you thinking? Never took you for a soldier Louis. Unless you´re planning to dance for your fellow troops in the barracks, I see no purpose of you going anywhere near the German.

-I´m no fighter, I know that. But they´re recruiting every man they could find, I had barely went to sleep last night when they knocked on my door and handed me the recruitment papers.

-Did they?

-Well, I could have said no but…

Beaumont casted him a sad smile, he knew his old pupil. There was no way he could´ve said no to his bleeding country, he cursed his good sense and loyal spirit.

-Where will you be deployed?

-Northeast I believe, beyond Reims, near Mossa River.

-That´s almost stepping in Prussia!

-Yes, I think the emperor, after his self _coup_ is trying to congregate all his troops near the border. I´ll write to you whenever I can.

There was so much to say and so little time Beaumont almost choked, the possibility of never seeing him again was too horrible to contemplate and yet it was there, hanging in the air like a poisonous fog, green and dark and frightening.

And as idiotic as it was, he just had to say it

-Does Odette know?

Mérante shook his head

-I didn´t even had the chance to say goodbye to her, it all happened so fast.

-Is there anything you want me to say to her?

-I´m not sure, I think it´d be cruel to ask for her affections given the possibility that I might not come back.

-It is even crueler not to go see her before you leave.

Louis kept silent for a moment and then he stood up.

-I told the nursemaid to let her know of my decision. I must go now, I´m late as it is. Could you please send this to my parents? – he asked while giving him a small missive and heading to a window shutter to open it.

-Are you for real? There´s none for the sweet girl you´ve dedicated weeks to make her fall in love with you and you just abandon her when she needs you the most?

-I haven´t…

-Oh, and I suppose you vising her twice a day, bringing her flowers and menacing her physician if he got too close was just charity work for the poor?

-YES, I LOVE HER BEAUMONT! – he shouted, slamming shut the window he´d just opened, its hinges trembled and cracked open sending the shutter to the floor, the noise competing with the shouting

-WELL, THEN BLOODY TAKE RESPONSIBILITY!

-WHAT?

-YOU ENAMOURED HER, AND NOW YOU´RE JUST LEAVING?

-I´M LEAVING TO PROTECT HER!

-OH, I´M SURE THE GERMANS WILL ABUSE OF A BALD CONFUSED GIRL

-TO PROTECT HER FROM ME!- he roared, much like the black angry lion Beaumont was always comparing him to.

The man calmed down, realizing he really did not want to fight with him, given this might be the last time he saw him.

-What do you mean?

-I´m too into her Beaumont, but she is just confused. It is possible she might think she loves me when really, she´s just clinging to someone since she remembers no one. I love her, more than I thought I did, and this situation is ripping me inside out. Believe me.- he took a deep breath, and kneeled to grab his weapon and bag from under the coffee table. – But I must also reconcile to the idea that she might never remember anything, and if such, she should know who she is as her new self without anyone interfering, no one to influence her view of the world. And I know I´m not strong enough to just leave her alone, so…

-So you´re just deciding for her?

-She´s too sweet to say no to anyone.

-On that we agree, but please Mérante; listen to yourself, she has no one else. What will she do? Turn to the red light district?

Louis looked at him in a way Beaumont thanked the bayonet was not loaded.

-I trust you´ll help her in whatever way you can.

-I will, but she doesn´t want me- he replied with a sigh, this proud stubborn youth was plunging to a life of misery and condemning a young lost girl to the same fate, -she wants you.

" _And I want her"_ Mérante realized remembering the night before, when he held Odette so close he could feel every inch of her body pressed against him, not Odette the wolf dancing queen with blue frosted roses around her, but the sweet burnt girl who would have given him her cloudy autumnal world had he asked. " _I want her happiness yes, but I want her as well. Wolf or woman or whatever she is now. I want to comfort her. I want to hear her laugh. I want her to come to me willingly, not under any amnesic spell. To bring me her joys, and her sorrows and her lust"_

-Louis?

-You know I´m not going to change my mind- he said finally, reaching for the entrance door, -I´ll lose my boat if I don´t leave now. Please…,- he asked with a hand on the knob –Look after her Beaumont, she is the one thing in the world I love.

-Boy, don´t you love me?- Beaumont replied, a fatherly smile ghosting his lips despite his frustration.

Louis smiled and waved him farewell, his hazel eyes a pool of sorrow and decision

-See you.

-Take care boy.

Mérante left the door open and Beaumont asked Solaria´s assistance in taking him to the threshold. They saw his young pupil boarding the boat on the other side of the river, losing sight of him as the small vessel floated through the waters, so lost he was he didn´t realize another young friend approaching, grabbing her cane in such a frantic state, she might have scourged him with it.

Solaria saw her and wondered if she could be the young woman her master and Monsieur Mérante were discussing about in the house, despite her limp she certainly walked like a raging wild animal, not at all in the way a lady would´ve carried herself.

-Monsieur Beaumont…-she whispered cautionary.

-Ye—he said but the girl interrupted him as soon as she was within earshot

-WHERE IS HE?

.

Armand Beaumont had never really seen Odette angry, actually, after seeing her, he thought he´d never seen anyone really angry before.

-He..he just left.

-WHAT?

She had a look about her that told him she had…she had…

-Odette, is your memory..?

-Yes, I have regained it… after Bess told me he was leaving to fight this God damned war—

-A lady shouldn´t-

-YOU THINK I CARE? I´ve just suffered another trauma and my mind feels like a blighted mess, and he just, he just-her wrath was overwhelming, she grasped her necklace, the howling wolf Hugo had given her and glanced at the mob by the river, their heads hiding the boats from plain sight.

-Which one is his boat?

-I don´t know, he can´t be that far, it was just minutes ago that he boarded his boat.

Gathering her remaining strength, Odette reached for her cane once more and headed for the river bank, Beaumont signaled Solaria to follow her.

-Assist her if she needs it, but don´t get too close. She might bite you.

Odette used her cane in advantage to push away and part the mob so she could reach the first row. The pain of her leg was getting beyond her ability to ignore and the wound on her side kept stabbing her, but she made the effort to study the faces on the different boats. He had to know, he had to know how much he´d hurt her, how much his attentions had harmed her to the point of not being able of imagining a world where he wasn´t in, how much she loved him.

At last she saw his features, his eyes, his hair…it was just like last night, when he´d held her in his arms and whispered moonsongs in her ear. Odette grabbed her necklace and pulled the chain, thinking of throwing it to his bloody attractive face, maybe that would make him realize she was herself and reconsider his choice but…

"It´s just a stupid necklace" she said, aloud this time. But it wasn´t. The wolf was Hugo and Apolline, her mother and her father, Beaumont and Kerloff. The wolf was Britain´s Bride brick walls, and the laughter of its people. The wolf was Philippe´s violin and Orlena´s dancing; the warm earthy smell of the glassgardens where her blue roses bloomed in winter, the Opera House marbled entrance with its golden waxy candlelight, the sound of the silken ballet pointes as she jumped on wooden boards. The wolf was Louis Mérante´s smile and the chaining embrace he´d wrapped her in that night.

She threw the necklace, with all her feelings, her grief and delight.

But Louis didn´t look back, did not realize.

And the wolf necklace splashed in the river waves, sinking into oblivion.

.

.

.

-Madame Odette, Madame Odette- she realized Beaumont´s maid was calling her, a pretty olive skinned girl with big dark eyes.

" _As dark as his hair"_

It was all too awful for her tired mind to process it just yet, she let herself being led to Beaumont´s house because it was easier, it was easier being led that to lead one´s life and because she was curious what it was like being cared after.

-Odette my dear, come. Let us break our fast together, there´s much to talk about.

Her limp made Armand Beaumont think about his wheelchair, fitting… one is broken and the other is crippled.

As they sat in his dining room and Solaria brought the service, he caressed her cheek and could see she was still too much in a state of shock to even cry, her skin pale as wax and her eyes gray like wolf´s skin, clear and shiny.

-Odette.

She looked at him without really seeing him.

-Much is coming, my sweet little wolf. We must prepare, you can stay here as long as you want

-I already have a job Monsieur- the tone was steely, like a chink of ice cracking through a glacier.

-I mean, yes. You do have a job, but you can live here, with me. We both have our ghosts and are more than a little traumatized from what just happened.

-How come you´re traumatized?

-I just found out he was leaving today, just as you. Just as you, it didn´t end well for me after that fire, and just as you, I also loved him. In a different way, mind you, but it also hurt me to see him leave not knowing if he´ll come back.

Odette´s look turned watery.

-He might come back for sure, but we cannot rely on anything, you taught me that- he said sincerely.

-Did I?

-Sure, you´ve taught us both a lot of things, even if you did not realize, but that´s what makes you so precious you know?

-I just…I thought he loved me.

 _"Oh he does, you don´t know to what extend"_

-Why don´t you ask him? Letters do exist you know

Odette showed a small smile.

-I just, I just remembered everything

-Well darling, I´m glad you realized- he didn´t look surprised at all, -Let´s eat, they say grief is better with a full belly.

-Who says it?

-No one, everyone- he smiled, -could you please pass the jam?

Odette gave it to him together with a sigh and the ghost of a smile… and he knew she hadn´t crumbled. Not yet.

After their meal, she thanked him and said she´d think about living with him, even if society might think it improper. After all, she used to be a ballerina and he a ballet master, rumors would spread.

But with war knocking on their door and Louis far gone, they didn´t think they´d care.

Days passed, Régine LeHautt, the young widow that accepted Odette as her maid closed her restaurant temporarily and said they were times to save money, therefore she wouldn´t be paying her much but offered her the maid´s quarters instead.

-I hate to see you crackling with your stupid cane like an old woman, this should at least abilitate you in arriving to my house on time- she caressed her stomach, -my late husband left me with child, thanks be to God and I cannot be disturbed more than necessary. Understood?

Odette simply nodded without bothering to point to the fact the baby´s father could not be her husband, math did not lie. But if that was the story she wanted the world to believe, so be it.

"We all like to believe our own lies" she thought bitterly, "like Louis Mérante loving me, for instance"

The thought poisoned and embittered her temper, making her cynical and harsh, cold and even more reserved than before.

With ballet gone out of her life, the world for her had no more colors. It was all in black and white and gray, all the shades of the truth. So much so Odette couldn´t help but laugh on the memory of Apolline telling her once that she´d love in blue, but her love had abandoned her as well, if he had once loved her he didn´t anymore and if he did, he was just selfish and cruel. All she was left with were the first pair of ballet pointes she ever bought, a wooden cane and a broken soul.

In her visits, Beaumont kept telling her she was strong, she was the strongest woman he knew, and with smiles and music tried to make her eyes shine purple once more. But she knew that even a man that has fought a hundred battles can lose the hundredth and one.

-You´re terrible- Beaumont told her, she hadn´t heard a word from Mérante in weeks and in his letters to his old master, never once did he mention her.

-Me?- she said disbelievingly,- It is the world that surrounds us the one who´s terrible. I´m just being sincere.

Days turned to weeks and weeks to months, newspaper stopped bringing deadlists and turned to merry affairs, the completion of the Opera´s repair and the upcoming prince´s wedding…and all of it told Odette France was losing the war.

News from the Battle of Sedan came when tree leaves where orange and yellow, and no letter from Louis Mérante had arrived ever since, Odette knew it was all over. She´d forever love him, and she´d forever keep the wrath she felt when he left.

Beaumont also felt it, they didn´t discuss it, for the thought of Louis dying was still too much to bear, they both tried to cope with it as the news of the emperor´s capture arrived together with the mid-autumn winds and the appalling German army marching, unchallenged, towards Paris.

Her master, Madame LeHautt declared she´d go to Toulousse before the German arrived, therefore she had to leave, worrying little about the fact Odette had no roof on her head.

-If I ever come back, you may work for me again. If winter or the German don´t kill you first.

Beaumont offered her asylum once more and she could do little else but accept, people where leaving the city, markets and shops where empty, Notre Dame´s bells echoing through gray mist, the river quiet with nothing else floating on its waters but the phantom of the cityfolk´s cheers when bidding farewell to their men.

So much for national pride.

Beaumont asked Jean and Solaria if they wished to leave as well, he´d be no impediment.

-This city is the most dangerous place in France right now, if you can make it to the country side within this week, consider yourselves lucky- he´d heard German troops were pillaging and burning small towns on their way to Paris, it was only sensible to flee the opposite way.

Jean accepted his offer, sweet Solaria however declared she had nowhere else to go, she´d remain there to help him in whatever she could.

"God Almighty, what will I do with a girl, a woman and me, a crippled in a city about to be flooded with enemies?" but he said nothing.

-Cry, most likely- said Odette´s voice, coming from behind him.

-Excuse me?

-I saw your face, Monsieur. If Jean leaves, it´d just be you, young Solaria and myself. Do not fret, we´ll try to do our best- she said jokingly but not entirely free of sarcasm and Beaumont took it that way.

He showed an apologetic smile.

-While it is true we are unprotected, it may be better this way. What could German soldiers want to do to either of us that could remotely report any benefit to them?

-On a first glance, nothing- she said, leaving her small bag on the floor and grabbing the back of his wheelchair towards the veranda. A sweet and sour feeling nesting in their stomachs seeing the empty street while some doves walked on the shadows the lampposts casted

-Don´t you want to go to your brother´s?

-Dennis? They left already little wolf, they´re too close to this wretched city, and I´m happy for them

-Did he ask you if you may join them?

-Of course he did, but he already has to care after his family and his wife´s mother and sister, if I had legs, maybe I would´ve gone with him.

-Maybe?

-I had to honor a pledge to a dead friend.

Odette tried the words didn´t sting so much, but nevertheless she felt a treacherous tear sliding down her cold cheek.

-Pledges mean little these days

-I agree, but nonetheless men do them, and I am one of the few who intends to keep mine.

-Which was it?

-I think you know

-I do, I was just hoping it to be a different one.

-How come?

-The one that would make yours worth it.

Beaumont remained silent as she carried on, her husky tone always a frozen puddle under the wheels of his chair.

-I don´t think he ever said something to me that implied he felt the same. Perhaps it was all a big misunderstanding, but now I can never set it clear.

Her voice broke and Beaumont knew she was silently crying, but he made no effort to look back at her.

-I don´t think you misunderstood anything little wolf.

-How could you know? You weren´t there

-He told me.

She stopped breathing so suddenly, she sobbed.

-He did?

-He loved you, as intensely as any man could love a woman. I cannot vow for his intentions, what he planned to do if he ever came back. But I do vow for his feelings Odette. He loved you.

That phrase soothed her heart, she had cried herself to sleep many nights. But as soon as it comforted her, it began to torment her. If he loved her, why did he leave? France? Fear for her? Both?

-It matters not anymore.

Beaumont nodded slowly.

-No, it matters not. But he would´ve wanted you to move forward, you know he would.

She sighed and using the chair´s handles, she tried not to limp too much on their way back to the house.

The following weeks where like reliving the time before the war started.

Solaria was washing the dishes while Odette helped her in drying and putting them away, her chocolate hair braided behind her head.

Beaumont sitting next to the kitchen door reading the newspaper, reading it aloud.

-…I don´t think it´s safe to leave the house for now.

-What will we eat then?- asked Odette.

-The kitchen garden Solaria here planted a few months ago should be good to be put to use, besides, the riots are getting worse and you two lovely girls have no one to protect you if something happens while you´re on the streets.

Solaria looked through the window towards the kitchen garden.

-We can harvest some of it Monsieur, but winter is coming and I´m not sure my abilities as a garden girl are enough…

-By then, let´s hope our wonderful new government have their act together.

With the emperor and remaining troops captured, the empress exiled and others members of the "royal family" nowhere to be found, the government in Paris was getting chaotic, everyone trying to get a piece of the power cake. Other functionaries declared together with popular representatives a Third Republic which in turn set up a National Defense Government and of course, many people did not agree with it; riots and public rallies roaming in the street, with people getting injured and sent to jail.

And while the Parisians fought each other the German set up a siege outside the city and started to build a dam to block the river waters.

-But I agree we shouldn´t go out for now.

-Thank you, shall we read in the living room? Solaria, could you bring us some tea?

The girl nodded and Odette took Beaumont to his usual spot near the hearth. He loved watching her, her limp hadn´t taken away her gracefulness, she picked up the book she´d been reading recently and sat down on the white couch.

-Maybe you should start doing your hair in a bun.

-Hmm? –she hummed turning her blue eyes towards him. No dreamy purple or depressing gray, a clear crystal blue that saw reality and looked at it back to the face.

-You´re a woman Odette, you should wear your hair up.

-Oh, right. I will, starting tomorrow.

Solaria brought the tea and retired to clean the vestibule, her black taffeta dress clean and neat.

-Have you ever been in love Monsieur?

Beaumont almost dropped the cup.

-Sorry my dear, you startled me….-she was still looking at him, waiting for an answer, -Yes, I have.

-Many times?

-I thought so every time but now, when I look back I think I only really loved one of them.

-What happened to her?

-She died, long ago.

.

.

.

The remnants of the old Revolution sparked once again in the newspapers Solaria used to fuel the iron stove. She was no Frenchwoman but she could understand the nationalism that drove these people, fed by the wish to prove the German army they would not surrender.

-What is it Solaria? - she heard mademoiselle Odette´s voice from behind her, she had a bucket in one hand and her cane on the other, her hard blue eyes looking over to the paper Solaria held in her hands.

-I just wonder, Madame…

-Really? Let´s wonder together, it´ll distract me from this excruciating backpain- she replied leaving the bucket on the floor and sitting on a chair to peel some potatoes. Food was starting to become scarce and Solaria thought about the time it would take for them to feel hunger´s bite.

-If the government accepts the Káiser´s surrender conditions, it would cut out this siege, many deaths could be prevented and the war would end. Are the territories they´re asking for really that important?

-Maybe, maybe not. I admit I know little about politics. But what I do know is that this city will go to its knees before surrendering, smallfolk like us don´t matter much in the grand scale of things. With the siege, food and water will be rationed soon and hunger turns any man into a criminal.

-I´m not afraid of hunger, I´ve experienced it many times in my life.

Odette raised an eyebrow

-Where I come from, hot spiced air blows in ancient temples and noisy markets. We are marked forever by the place where we were born, the color of our skin and the politic ideals of our parents. I..I couldn´t stay there after mine were killed. So I left as soon as possible.

-Did you…

Her questions drowned in alarming trumpet sounds.

-Quick!

They both hurried to close up the curtains, Odette hobbled to the kitchen back door to bar it. Just the other day Solaria had been in danger of being taken by the angry starving mob.

 _-How much longer?_ \- she thought looking at Solaria who was completely terrorized, " _How much longer will I stand living like this?_

 _._

 _._

 _._

Far away from there, inside an old and rickety house with shot holes covering its walls and just a few miles away from Prussian lands was a young man. The smudges on his face weren´t enough to hide his appealing features, the hazel warm light in his eyes shined aggressively towards the small Prussian detachment pointing their swords and bayonets towards him.

-Do it! - he spat in perfect German, -I can´t stay brave forever

-Wait! –interrupted an officer standing in the back, his clothes indicating a higher rank. –He was the sole survivor who did not soil himself- his blatant mockery towards his fallen comrades enraged Louis

-You should fire a look like that towards someone who just saved you, you ungrateful swine!- Mérante did not see it coming, his vision blurred as he sank into sweet nothing and, after thinking in his slayed friends, his countryside on fire and the river full of corpses, he welcomed the shadow embracing him.

.

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* * *

 **A/N You guuuuys! Promise I´ll finish this, doesn´t matter how long it takes. Together we´ll make it!**

 **What do you think of this chapter? Made it longer on purpose ;), hope it hasn´t been too much**


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